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Aylan


The sea spat out a dead boy;
Images of him, peaceful as can be,
Spread faster that the fires engulfing the evergreen pines of Aleppo,
He, was far from home.

The sea spat out a dead boy;
The bile laced tears of his father
Poisoning Poseidon's supper
Till he retched him onto the shores of our conscience.

The sea spat out a dead boy;
Images of him
Haunt this writer's restless dreams
But he's selfish for making this about him.

The sea spat out a dead boy;
Punctuating our morbid obsession
with the scandalous lives of the idle rich,
Tickling artists and poets
Because, inspiration scavenges on tragedy.

The sea spat out a dead boy:
And politicians, men of religion
On grandiose stages,
in verbose speeches,
Said, "Never again",
Just like that other time.

The sea spat out a dead boy:
Images of him wrenching from the subconscious,
Images of another child stalked by Death himself.
What happened to that child anyway?

The sea spat out a dead boy:
His soul joining a host of children at the shores of our conscience,
Calling...

But we can't be bothered,
Till the next of image of dying children interrupts our mundane lives, again.







*****September 6, 2015*****







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Spellbinding...

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Tonight,
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God is My Barber

The sickness that made the Vulture bald
would have killed the Crow.

It is because
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and would not be questioned
about who they show favor to,
That Crows live to,
Squawk hysterically
At Vultures' misfortune.

We have come to understand, that,
when a petty god is your barber,
Crows, who can't afford a razor,
with their benevolent destinies,
will punctuate our precious peace
with their shameless snickering.

but
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http://morganes-photographe.deviantart.com/
My Second poem about Vultures. I really need to stop this...😂😂😂

The Vulture

In times of famine,
The Vulture does not eat grass.
When Leopards are lean
because antelopes nowhere to be seen
The Vulture sits and watches,
Waiting...

Those who mocked his baldness
Will do well to remember
None has seen the Vulture's corpse
And he is secure in the knowledge that none will.

So,
when it rains
And they mock him
For having no nest still,
He holds his peace,
Watching...
For the Vulture, he's a patient animal.

The Vulture is not vindictive,
Those who mocked will die,
Those who didn't will die,
It matters not.
For when carcasses lay ripe
The Vulture does not ask
If his feast was once friend or foe

*****February 1, 2016*****