JonBenet Ramsey: The Second Deadly Poem

 This was the other poem the attorney received. Once again, it was anonymous. Denver post mark. That's it. The attorney sent this poem to an author. The Boys In The Zellar were not aware of this poem for some time. Just as the author was not aware of the poem we had in our possession. 

Here it is. Anything in parentheses has been added by the BITZ.

The
Manchurian Doll

They say
that innocence prevails
 and evil
cannot master time
And riches,
fame, and fortune sow
Some evil
seeds which then will grow
 To
 devour their progenitors.

*Of thirty
duos, some must know
 That they
 themselves will out their crime
 And
have.

*(Ties into other poem)

Within an old man's fleeting leer
The cycle of the dolls came
'round
 It poisoned sick the
world's Yule cheer
They use
> their own. In passing down
 The
 rituals remain unfound.
And
Christmas break gives time to heal
Parties abound, all wounds congeal
 But one.

At blithely festive New Year's bash
Some candidates en route stopped
there
 As if by feigning toasts and
cheer
They could do undo the fatal
sash
The week before.

 But handlers die. And what to do?
 With Christmas nigh, the one in
lieu
 Did err.


 *Saint John
would roll o'er in his grave
 To
know the smut that crossed his nave
 Yet Christmas day he held her near
 As if he knew she'd disappear
That very night.

*(Ties into other poem)

 And elder
 cleric's errant son
His extant
crush now on the run
 Did they
 supply the candidates
 With fodder
 for their lewd e-fun?

 Do tell.

 Truth blazes
in but from mcfar
The hunt
 team's snare was too adept
 With
keen eyes placed to guard the bar
 The talk of dolls in silence kept.
They tripped the truth while jurors prepped
 Then sacked the hunter as inept. But
 hunters now
 The hunted are.


 Death's
officer perfidy bared
 Though taints
of roofs fast disappeared
 No
antidote this Snow White spared.
The other signs were clearly there
 Yet all were hastily interred
 And
 silky-dressed and golden-haired
 Truth slept.

Of One who died outstretched on
 high
 Most gentle hands His swaddle
made
 And in sepulchral cloth she
laid. Nor twins replayed
 'Round
 captive limb.

This mortal braid is our demise
 When angels perish in its vise

Betrayed by kindred's galling
lies.
As purloined justice turned
blind eyes
A panicked lapse left
 unsurmised
Clues carried home,
already prone
 Sleep-guised.
 

However, one

must study greats
 Take, for
example, William Yeats
 Who spoke
 about Byzantium
 No governor could
 stop the run
Your split in planning
 took its toll
 Your race spun out of
 control
 Things fall apart.

 The
 antichrist lurks in the head
 It festers in the carnal eye
 Which
 takes young victims from their bed
 To suffer that and then to die.

 Now
 vacant, half-glazed tears are shed
 From ambidexterous author's stead
 One doll, now grown, hides in dread
 Another Manchurian candidate
 is dead