Bled

Oh sweet little creature what is left of you will be gore;

When torn apart by garrotting crows relishing your crushed carcass;

But I hope you’re not seen as a victim of a bastard deed;

No, it was an accident;

I came near you too fast;

And startled, you dashed off blindly;

Oh sweetest little wonder;

Your lifeless eyes cast a still gaze toward the stars;

Was it not I that hopped and fed? Am I really struck down dead? Had my insides truly bled? Am I and nature forever wed?

Yes to all, sweetest little one;

Yes to all.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

In The Garden

Felled autumn leaves    On wet ground For rot to work With welcoming soil Whilst winds blow Bringing the rain into it Tempting wiggle worms Which will reap The good nutrients left And give dark soil A velvet feel A rich man’s smell. For in the gardener    Awakens a worker Keen to sow: And mature seed Will rise in bloom And stringed birds Serenade boon botany In la primavera All that is decomposing Rotting leaves Their yellow is gold Their black is carbon They’ve left behind Standing skeletons For kids to climb For sunshine to reveal What secret habits Autumns leave.  
Read more

Evol

Evol si ssendam ni eht ria Ekil a cithog levon riaf   Ekil a gnillor enost ta emoh Ekil a yllod enolc dezitpab   Gnikam srevol naom Sdrow fo love deralced No a elibom enohpelet.
Read more

Sometimes They are Mistaken for Dogs

The anxious bark at suburbs given to alienation,   Bark at the morally weak who suck in virtue,   And barkers bark at unknown cads Who steal flowers from shattered graves. Lonely bureaucrats bark at keyboards they strike,      The switch of the ultra-powerless,   Their plaintive words seasoned with spite. How they bark at paperwork deadline manipulated.   For who is it that understands frustration? Check-outs bark at wealth jumping millionaires,   Whose free space is wilder than wisdom. Bark, bark at the barkers barking back.   Barking at bloody crosses to which believers cling. Barking, disturbed ones, until fate guts their sting.     Bark, the angry ones, spitting words at shadows. Barkers bark, lest defeat intervenes and cripples.
Read more