Saturday, August 4, 2012

In Lieu of Alcohol after a Week of Work

Thieving magpies of the full
    Monty moon,
Shrieks of “ego” through the golden trees
                Soiled to inky black,

The catbird’s open finally
                To the thought of compromise,
She gets the forest must be lit
                But insists it must stay dark.

The dove doesn’t have the heart to disagree
                Publically, for he’s afraid
Once he tastes the blood he won’t
    Stop until he’s drank it all.

The sparrow says all feather work goes through her
                As their self-appointed keeper
But she flies from every conflict,
                From the glare of minutiae.

The blue jay’s thoughts are sloppy
    As if they are his feelings
And his feelings are pure selfishness
                As if they are his thoughts.

The raven comes to realize, a semi-click too late
    That one of the challenges of being smart
Is knowing you have to surrender eventually
                To idiots.

The finch just whistles and looks pretty
                Says the secret to survival
Is losing every battle, to fluff up all the victors
                To be sacrificed in the war.

It’s a night where everything you do
                Reveals itself as useless
Done for the sole purpose
                Of pretending there’s consensus.

It’s the kind of night where the truth
                Reveals its hidden dangers,
Where everyone has their say, in an icy
                Professional way

So the end is guaranteed before the first cool vent of blood.


the walking man said...

I would rather the alcohol if I had to listen to every thought of every outcome before the time of it was known.

I do love the writing here Bill, perfect rhythm both in the mind and the mouth.

So many divergent "opinion" from the different flocks forming the multitude and none of it matters to any but them and the just so they know their way is the right one.

Jack said...

I saw some archetypes described. Described rather well.

I could feel bad for each.

Rusty Kjarvik said...

are you alluding to the si-morgh (the thirty birds) also known as the conference of the birds by farid'uddin attar of nishapur, the sufi versifier of mystic experience into the naturalist symbology of human animalism?

i see great potential to elucidate in this direction here, otherwise write on into the unprecedented flight!

still in both yours and attar's lines there is an ever tempestuous struggle against the individuating might of egotistic knowledge as an inborn exclusive right cloaked in a facade of democracy, an ever-important lesson for our times!

poet tree, write on!