She sits and stands, dances and spins.
Laughs a bit and then cries the saddest tear,
no fear in her eyes, a puzzle unsolvable.
And she knows she is capable of anything,
she can do magic and pull any string.
Sometimes a bit empty, in her thoughts she would sit,
every bit of her skin hot and wet, on the edge of the world.
Her glance deceives without you knowing,
her eyes going far while she disappears
to some other loves, never fully happy
curiously lost, those dark and wild things...
and she can stare at clouds for hours,
at rain, black bird's wings...
And then she slips out my hands,
once strong and now weak as spiderweb.
And she sings, what is life but a dream, deception?
Then I admire her, and want her for myself
to hold on to her for another moment.
And as the sunset watches us, I know
I am the one being left without her, alone.
As she seduces, as she chants and sings,
she is my maiden, my God, the black bird's wings.

We throw roses as the thorns cutting
deeper than death..
But we never know as our existence was forsaken.

Aren't we worth more than the stars..
But alas we are the folly of crows picking aimlessly,
                                 and the obituary of dissolution.

The ******; sheepishly not innocent,
bound for another attack yet restrained by their inner hawk.
Guilted by feelings that drown in the sea of the land,
visibly tortured by the wakes of man.
Tasseled, bodied, manipulated to their very core;
the ease of handing gifts when given, and receiving gifts when taken.
They prey upon the demise of those upcoming, new, untold
Assuring their stories to never be told.
One hand and it's all whipped away,
Either by cuffs or a scarecrow at bay.

The church tower crows

Drifting black kites

In organised rows

Revelling in the heights


Why do they fly?

Just for the love of it

Why do they cry?

To let us all know of it

Crows
A girl walked through the field one morning,
free of worries, doubts and woes.
The path was clear, forever going,
Through the corn field through the rows.

She walked and leaped and laughed and sang,
Until she stopped to see the view,
Something strange has stopped her legs.
She would have walked on if only she knew.

There across her stood a stake
With a strawman tied and bound,
The crows sat on him,sat and ate,
But they didn't make a sound.

A scarecrow- she thought, but amused,
I've never seen one this upclose,
But isn't all for which he's used,
To chase off those nasty crows?

A girl drew closer and so did the clouds,
The birds shrieked and flew away,
The girl went pale and screamed out loud,
She aged a century that sunny day.

There on the stake bound with rope,
In the corn field attracting crows,
Hung, half eaten, beyond hope.
The girl's neighbour, farmer Joe.

She kept silent after that,
As the gray clouds spat out rain.
And the wind blew of the scarecrow's hat,
To reveal the farmers brain.