Death lurked here. I walked slowly. It was day, but it seemed so dark. The silence was loud. The smell was unbearable. I looked forward, walking as fast as I could. I needed to get out of here. Something wasn’t right about this place. This place I called home.
As vultures were swooping around the carcass of the rotting body, Viswanath looked on. What had happened? It was only one week ago everyone had left – they were all in perfect health, were armed and were sure that they were safe. And now this
We are like vultures
that never leave the ground
Circling around blocks
looking for the next prey
It makes me think
how primitive we still are
like jostling maggots
dying in a jar.
Vultures are sometimes people who are opportunistic and they come to you only when they need help. Vultures as birds wait for an animal to pounce on them and eat them. they have a good view of their targets. vultures can
Hakuna Matata or is it the other one?
Beatles hair cuts and barbershop voices in the jungle.
The ‘What do you want to do?’ Conundrum,
that’s what friends are for.
The vultures flew about swooping down every once in a while to take a bite from the carcass that lay below. The witnesses were disgusted by this act, and had to turn away. One can only hope that they weren’t scarred,
Vultures of the soul creep out from the dark to devour the innocence I have nurtured. Fighting them is a fools task, for every time the #vultures are agitated, they return with vengeance in my dreams to seep the vitality out of all that is dear to me. @oznolem #oneoword
packs of vultures
picking scraps from the culture
keeping the parts they like
but shrieking that the parts they don’t are because of an unjust structure.
they peck at the lines, attempting to rupture.
decades of work are pierced and then punctured.
a shake in the earth from a knocked over sculpture.
a slow breath drawn at a pivotal junture,
to mend the wounds with some yarn and a suture.
truth stands tall as a beacon for futures.
future reptiles swim in sand
…and
what?
nothing
salt has always been sweet
Death lurked here. I walked slowly. It was day, but it seemed so dark. The silence was loud. The smell was unbearable. I looked forward, walking as fast as I could. I needed to get out of here. Something wasn’t right about this place. This place I called home.
Political vultures are picking our minds clean of all original thought.
As vultures were swooping around the carcass of the rotting body, Viswanath looked on. What had happened? It was only one week ago everyone had left – they were all in perfect health, were armed and were sure that they were safe. And now this
We are like vultures
that never leave the ground
Circling around blocks
looking for the next prey
It makes me think
how primitive we still are
like jostling maggots
dying in a jar.
monster
castles
statues
people
clay
Vultures are sometimes people who are opportunistic and they come to you only when they need help. Vultures as birds wait for an animal to pounce on them and eat them. they have a good view of their targets. vultures can
Hakuna Matata or is it the other one?
Beatles hair cuts and barbershop voices in the jungle.
The ‘What do you want to do?’ Conundrum,
that’s what friends are for.
into the night, the day is not to be squandered like the vultures of the hours and the halfs who simply feast on the fears of the empty.
The vultures were gathering around the rocks, like dark clouds before a storm. They were smelling death, the sweet time for having a feast.
The vultures flew about swooping down every once in a while to take a bite from the carcass that lay below. The witnesses were disgusted by this act, and had to turn away. One can only hope that they weren’t scarred,
Vultures of the soul creep out from the dark to devour the innocence I have nurtured. Fighting them is a fools task, for every time the #vultures are agitated, they return with vengeance in my dreams to seep the vitality out of all that is dear to me. @oznolem #oneoword
packs of vultures
picking scraps from the culture
keeping the parts they like
but shrieking that the parts they don’t are because of an unjust structure.
they peck at the lines, attempting to rupture.
decades of work are pierced and then punctured.
a shake in the earth from a knocked over sculpture.
a slow breath drawn at a pivotal junture,
to mend the wounds with some yarn and a suture.
truth stands tall as a beacon for futures.