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Rob Rutledge May 2014
Across the Savannah we sailed
Floating through the slipstream
Of desire.
Higher we rose, to thorny heights.
Embraced by wings
Of fire.
A kingdom freely given turns to rust
Citadel walls fall in blizzards of dust.
The air is displaced by talons
That grip from ankle to throat.
Clawing and scratching,
A  noose,
A rope.

Upon the steppe I lay,
Impaled upon your
Tree of pain.
Barbed through the heart,
Saved for a rainy day.
A tree, split with an battle-ax, sticks.
Voice of a shrike.
a m a n d a Jan 2015
i used to feel
   such tenderness
a calm assurance of truth

now i am hard
   poised to strike
*i am no one's soft place to land
brooke Apr 2013
Why would you want to
know them, you
ask of the same people
who also eat the best
parts of you.
(c) Brooke Otto
Prabhu Iyer Jul 2014
Packets of peace cordoned off by fences and barbed
wire, hooded lush in manicured fields.

Endless stream of labour crossing over water pikes:
hear, no see - river in the bush.

Emerges curved a mirror on a pole: three directions,

The three birds, tinier than my forefinger, eating grain.

Lisping away in the wood the warbler and the shrike.

Wild flower, pops out red from a corner
of the cultivated green: and I am...
Impressions from a walk along a leafy neighbourhood
*****?
Aren't you a big shrike?
Those "*****" are lady-like
And we can talk freely about other women and its not awkward
What's not to like?
Get that pike
Out of your rear
Because it's apparent
That you are not easy to like
By the way you label people nastily
It's not appealing any way.
Poetic T Jun 2016
We were frolicking through the streets, amusing ourselves
with what was noting less than bliss.

"Points mean prizes my friends,

"Knock the door go on,
"You do it man,

As they walk up to the door one is smiling the other of a
nervous disposition, "relax man,  they discuss the doorbell
or the policeman knock?
The knock is better louder of course attention grabbing
but then other neighbours will hear its echo and curiosity
will awaken them to phones and regrettably police.

The door bell is rang, but not a murmur so repeatedly
they tap it until luminosity awakens and words of
profanity dripped out like a leaky tap. "Dam,
Looking at each other, as hallway lights emerged and
footsteps danced down the stairs a melody of F's P's
and a kaleidoscope of others painted the air.

If I had a swear jar on this house I 'd be a rich man,
as he unlocks the many bolts. "Not a trusting man I see,
The door takes an age to open as we wait eagerly and
then he grinds it open slower than a snail in a race
with a bullet we start to get frustrated.

"Foot meet door, door meet foot,

As the door releases back and the chain is deprived of
its clasping the gentlemen is thrown back not with a
racket but more like slow motion. Then he hits the floor
Like china thrown from a fourth storey balcony.
Then there is silence, "Check his pulse man,
As one of them linger over him listening to what
ever sign of life is left and then like he was reanimated
from the dead he lunges forward and grabs a clump of
hair. One laughs while the other one screams in a girly
kind of shrike. Composing himself quickly, one swift
five knuckle plant and again the gentlemen is out cold.

"You scream like a girl man,
"Did you see that, it was like one of those zombie flicks,
"Ye right, your just a wetter ma man,

As they stood over the man, now joined by his hysterical wife.
Luckily they always carried a roll of duck tape, you never know
when this will come in handy. As the other wrapped it tightly
around her thin lined lips, and the storm became a drizzle of
crying murmurers. Looking at each other knowing that this only
works in the dark they thought of ways to awaken the sleeping
beauty?

"I'll punch him, "Really that got us here in the first place,
Pondering on thoughts one skipped into the adjacent room,
"Dude what are you six,  A silence of embarrassment lingered
as into the kitchen he rummaged through the cupboards like a
homeless dog in the litter bin. Looking in the fridge he found
what was needed.
"What ya going to do rub it under his nose that kipper stinks,
"Some thing like that,

He unwraps it gagging at the odour that perforates the air,
"How can you eat this it smells like a prostitutes well used bits,
The woman smirks in a half terrorized quarter amused mumble.
As he nears his prey fish wrapped in a hand towel, whiffing it
below his nostrils. This isn't working the thought, "F#ck it,
Raising his arm up in the air he slaps the unconscious gent clear
in the chops. He stutters awake in confusion wandering what
was happening then in realization he speaks in ferocity.

"What the hell you doing my house, violating our residency,

"Now that's we like the feisty ones,

An edged smile greets the bound hostages, then the rules are
read out, "Are we listening, the untapped swear tin is about
to release a tirade of profanity on both so they bind his mouth
with what is needed (Shut Um Up Duck Tape) [tm] then silence
is blessed on there ears and they begin quickly to explain the
happenings they find themselves in.

"Why you slumbered we went through your thinks,
"Madam that was quiet a section we found in the bedroom,
"Sir are we on the limp list, there are tablets for that,

"Rules stick to them and maybe you'll survive,
"Not and a lot of bad things can happen,

1. Try to alert anyone they and you die.
2. If you try to escape we have family members addresses
we will hunt them and end them with no hesitation.
3. Have fun as your life depends on it, be imaginative.
4. We have rid the house of any and all knives and blades
5. creativity is the master of invention, you understand.

As the old guy rumbles on trying to speak, he un-tapes
his mouth and listens to his frustrated rabbling's.


"How we know you'll not just **** us,
"This isn't our first or 26th no 27th in fact rodeo.
"There were six of us unfortunately there have been
winners and losers on both sides,

"We are but three lonely shepherds now,
"Three I only see two?
"Our friend is outside guarding the entertainment value
of this diverting fun tonight,


And then without words he said two his playthings,
"You have to the count of 100 to hide to do what must be done
make your peace fight or die its your choice,


They untapped there mouths as to not be muffled of sound
easier to hear on the ear if there crying in fear, and with that
the gentleman gives a capture a five knuckle tap.

"Good shot, and good on you, now run dead man walking,

They both scarpered hand in hand, love will **** you the
other man thought as he watched them run like rabbits.
1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10.................100,
You wouldn't believe it but a hundred seconds takes
quite a long time in the aspect of what were doing.

They at first play games as stomping upon the laminated floor,
so many had ran when they had done this, Idiots. but these
two never flinched, hats off to there courage. Then tactic No2,
we know where you are, were going to come to play with your
insides with our loving blades they like to penetrate you deeply.

As wandering feet did walk on the cold floor they heard the
scurrying of ill footsteps, "we have a rat scampering beneath
our very feet,
Both with smiles lingered on the basement footsteps
and slowly descended as what was waiting clambered around in
aimless wondering. Both thought it was the lonely cowering wife.
Not as once thought as the swear box in the darkness gave birth
to profanities and in the midst of our arrival he was weeping like
a new born child. Our knifes were his voice as blood silenced it.

We wiped the memories of his last lingering moments from
the existence of his blade, this fool thought he had strength but
in the end it bled out faster than others before him.
But wait a moment what about the one that blubbered her
fear in a cascade of tears where was she hiding?
"I can smell your fear it sweetens the air,
Both separated to find and cull the last of this herd.

"Please don't hurt me,
"I'm all alone,

He snuck through the hall way hearing here speech in the
darkened bedroom. His knife drawn, to plunge into its
awaiting pray. heading towards the cupboard he thinks
the prey is getting easier these days. "Found you, as
he opens it wide to find a tape recording on repeated play
and a note saying heel *****.... A confused look on his face
till blood seeped silently down his face. In rage he swipes
missing her by millimetres, then she says one final word.
"These are $500 shoes, and gouges it deeply into his throat.

Screaming in gargled silence, his last sight was her giving him
the finger and her foot gently crushing his throat. She got her
manicured fingers and gently grabbed her neck, cracking the
stress out with each crunch.
"There were three little pigs now there are two...
"Oink, Oink, she giggled in nervous thought.

He stood on the stairs shouting in a lulled voice his partners
name, but with no echo of voices he knew that the game was a
foot and another of his clan had paid the ultimate price.
So the husband with all his voice was a lamb to the slaughter
but the wife, the quiet ones are always the ones to look out for.

He was more cautious now that only the two of them breathed,
they were both the prey but who would be the winner of this contest?
he looked upon the box emptied earlier in haste, the gun?
looking inside a note was penned in scribbled in quickened haste.
"If your reading this well done you found only one of my guns,
"BANG,

He jumped back in embarrassment, he looked around in case the
other was lingering in silence behind him. But no one was there
to his pride and ego he sighed out loud. now was the time to seek
the prize, the hunt was needed as in the next room he found the
still warm but deceased comrade with the heel still in his neck.
"That is so not your colour my man,
He thought there isn't many places to hide in this house, yes it
was larger than the pervious ones but that was half the fun or
was It half there down fall?

She crept within the walls this house was of the cotton days,
hiding those needing escape, through the mirror she saw him
wanting nothing more than to end his life.. but she had no
weapon, or was that a false thought as there were the old swords
Sitting ideal in the loft. They were still sharp as she had found out
not but a few months ago. Paper cut my ****... it needed six stitches
but that had now healed as she subconsciously ****** her finger.

He was getting agitated at the aspect that he maybe next,
but brushing aside that thought he went into the mode of hunter,
seeing if odours of perfume lingered in the air but noting greeted
senses except the smell of blood festering on the air.

"Come out and play I haven't got all night to linger in this place,

She could hear fear in his voice he tried to hide it beneath his manly
fasard that was crumbling like a weather worn cliff on the presapace
of collapse. She was a very varied woman that they didn't know,
fear had collapsed her in the first moments but now that had faded
like a sunset, she was a ventriloquist by trade in her youth quite the
entertainer. But she was retired and welcomed the rest, but no time
was there to catch a breath let alone to breathe.

He was starting to think, he should count his loses and leave.
then he heard voices but not from one spot but other places in
the house. Unbeknown to him there was an intercom system
and she was throwing her voices though out the house.
"Who is that , what do you want, How could there be more
than one? There was only two he thought, were  they wrong when
they entered this house? A lone wolf that needed the blood before
his blood was spilt.

She was happy that she took out one with her skills, now it was
the other two players turns she was going to quarter back slap the
hell out of this final invader of her sanity. But how could she play
him? Her husband was dead, she knew that for a fact they were bragging it through out there gloating verses. This was her moment
to show who the wolf was and that they were the sheep herded to
the optimistic place of the final ****, her or them.

She saw him silent and still, she had never seen him this weak, but
this was his chance to save her skin, she found fishing wire, and a
pardon the pun, a broom you know where that went to keep him
stable and up right. The intercom crackled she played his voice
over and over again she used to drive him crazy with he
impersonations of him, it always brought a laugh but the were silent now.

"Come on think I'm dead you cant **** anger you child of
pathetic consequence,
  

He feverishly thought of moments past was he dead?
they had gutted him like a fish, how could this be.
Phoning the cover outside he said this was his play and
if It ended he was exiting stage left. One final voice spoke
that he knew the rules if he was to exit then he was to end
his existence, there were rules for a reason.

She was had it planned the recorder the fish wire and that broom,
saying her apologies to her dearly departed but it wasn't anything
strange those toys upstairs weren't only hers you know.
Calling over the intercom, "Lets party you, swear box was
blessed with over a hundred coins the tirade of vocal words she
expelled on the air waves. He recognized that expel of vocabulary
as that person he ended not so few hours ago and confusion ignited
on his features to what the hell was going on in this place.

Stepping in palpitating haste he descended in slow motion, not
with the vigour of what was replayed earlier in the night.
"I killed you once old man I'll do it again,
But fear was expelled this time not courage of the **** like before,
He took played his fingers on the wall to find the switch.
No longer did it enlighten the surroundings, he was in darkness,
and then before him he stood, but he cant stand he had gutted him
and no one comes back from that.

"Who says I'm dead, your just a poor excuse for a mummies boy
go on cry ya little...,


Then in haste he lunged at the oldd man, not thinking straight.
fear and anger eclipsed ratinal thought as he sang his blade into
his skull. Cold eyes stared back, then he realized It was a trap,
He felt it but it was not as he thought he would have felt his
skin screamed out in tears of crimson. A sword was visual
through the front and back of his own self. He swore at her
knowing his time was moments away. she spoke from the dark,

"Its not this that's going to **** you, remember what you found
in the bedroom,


"Oh come on lady just plunge the blade in again I cant move,

But she didn't listen  as she bludgeoned his face with it, different features greeted with each impact till his features were just blooded and
he no longer moved anymore. Her face was a collage of blood from
those she had ended, holding her husband in her arms stroking his
remaining hair. Kissing him on the head she gently put him down.
Opening the porch door she spoke out, "I have ended this playtime
I am the queen of this house, the others are still, static you going to
end me now?

"Rules are rules I'm sorry but I must leave you now,
"Congratulations for winning your life,
"Sorry you lost whoever pasted in the game,
"Know if they had walked out they would have been dead,
"Rules are rules,

There was silence, then on the doorstep she rested her bloodied hands
on her knees and tears of fear, of courage poured out.
She was the winner of this even though she felt totally lost.
Sirens were heard in the distance and she just sat there still....
2684 words wholly poo... this is my longest most difficult write to date.. thanks to all who take the time to read it there maybe a few grammar mistakes but I`m so tired it took three days to write...
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
Butcher Bird
A Poem by Jeremy Wyatt
"
Simulation, brash, aloft, rebel, impale.
"
High aloft what is it I see
dripping something onto me
like a simulation of Christ's nail
now upon which you did impale

your namesake is less brash than you
happy with beetles and frogs it slew
but something darker does you drive
a rebel slaying all alive

Church steeples high you cherish best
see bodies perched high stiff at rest
the birds put creatures on barbed wire
you place your bigger prey much higher

I've written of you many times
some wee stories some small rhymes
You share a bird name both alike
the Buthcher Bird we know as Shrike
Third Eye Candy Sep 2011
in the basement
where we keep our little gravities-
apparently the earth gave way
and hell announced a cavity.
allow for strange attractors
to collapse before they're intimate.
and never take the stairs
until you've locked the room beneath it.
according to the rule
there may be echoes from the chamber
a misery of wraiths
or a raven in the manger.
or a hackle of contempt
the very air, a shrike of drone.
an epistle from a hornet's nest-
at the back of our throats.
in the very, very quiet
where we keep our little maladies-
apparently the basement is as good a place as enmity.
allow for cain and abel
and perhaps you have the half of it,
swinging from a hook in every room we've heard it laughing in.
according to the rule
there may be black so black it's blackening
and everywhere the hoards of wane
dispel the moon
because.
neth jones Dec 2020
singing notes of the sick dawn
a bird makes off with my heart
humiliation
pins it to the notice board
I'll not retrieve it
and
unclothed
be witnessed
Third Eye Candy Oct 2012
in the basement
where we keep our little gravities-
apparently the earth gave way
and hell announced a cavity.
allow for strange attractors
to collapse before they're intimate.
and never take the stairs
until you've locked the room beneath it.
according to the rule
there may be echoes from the chamber
a misery of wraiths
or a raven in the manger.
or a hackle of contempt
the very air, a shrike of drone.
an epistle from a hornet's nest-
at the back of our throats.
in the very, very quiet
where we keep our little maladies-
apparently the basement is as good a place as enmity.
allow for cain and abel
and perhaps you have the half of it,
swinging from a hook in every room we've heard it laughing in.
according to the rule
there may be black so black it's blackening
and everywhere the hoards of wane
dispel the moon
because.
Third Eye Candy May 2013
in the basement
where we keep our little gravities-
apparently the earth gave way
and hell announced a cavity.
allow for strange attractors
to collapse before they're intimate.
and never take the stairs
until you've locked the room beneath it.
according to the rule
there may be echoes from the chamber
a misery of wraiths
or a raven in the manger.
or a hackle of contempt
the very air, a shrike of drone.
an epistle from a hornet's nest-
at the back of our throats.
in the very, very quiet
where we keep our little maladies-
apparently the basement is as good a place as enmity.
allow for cain and abel
and perhaps you have the half of it,
swinging from a hook in every room we've heard it laughing in.
according to the rule
there may be black so black it's blackening
and everywhere the hoards of wane
dispel the moon
because.
Jeremy Duff Jun 2015
On the day of worship the Temple filled.
It had been three years since the Messiah left, and nobody had forgotten.

The Priests of Tek dawned their red robes
and Father John Misty took his place at the altar, his heart heavy yet full of chagrin.

He clears his throat,
my fellow children of yonder Year,
my sisters of Sand,
my brothers of Dust,
my lovers of Greed,
here now what I say,
for I speaketh not.


for now speaks The Shrike,
for now speaks The Lord of Atonement,
your God of Pain,
your mystifying Excellence of Death.


Father Misty reached into his black robe and drew forth a small child.
What life may have been left in the infant was destroyed when Father John Misty stuck the unmoving body onto the red spike protruding from the altar, the spike entering the body through the ****, and reaching an inch from the soft skull.

Father John Misty's voice took on a lower town, yet softer, not forgiving, yet all knowing.

This child has a name.
This child is Jesus Christ.
This child will grow as if alive.

And before the rough congregations eyes the child began to grow on the spire. The limbs first lengthened, than filled out. The child's chest expanded and the head grew bigger. Father Misty then hoisted him off of the spire, and set him, bleeding, before the congregation. The body began to shift, jerky movements before the skin appeared to bubble. A low gutteral sound began to emanate from now full grown man. He lifted his torso and head up and looked at each member of The Temple of Ten individually.

He spoke

I am your savior,
I am unfruitful death,
I am unwarranted pain,
I am money being cheated from the desperate man,
I am the brains taken from a lobotomite,
I am the destruction of a hurricane,
I am as dead as the gasoline you **** for,
I am as dead as you are.


I am Jesus Christ,
this is not the first time you've seen me,
this will not be the last.
You are allowed to die now.


And they did.
david mungoshi Jun 2016
roll into a ball
and be on call
time to time
until the dew
snap and growl
whimper and moan
soar like an eagle
strike like a shrike
hop like a frog
and croak your
anxious moments
with your adam's apple
bobbing in your groans
be sweet as a dream
even when you tense up
your eyes hooded
in those cobra moments
then relax and smile like an angel
you're so venturesome
in your 'bedhaviour'
Boi Dec 2018
My jumping from the Gmajor 9 on Fsharp of an alternate
but a similar
baseline and notes
My Master & a Hound

My hammers on fifth to eighth to fifth to third
sliding across a string at C
later a string of G
My Shrike

My narrow slide on D and B and back a middle 8
maybe a strum on an A
flowing a Bminor
My Cherry Wine, My Tennessee Whiskey

My Cadd9 alternate of C. Two steps down
one Up
Em, D-reamy
My Walk on Water

My attempts to shine you bright by a thumb
on an E
for a Csus2 to an Aflat
My Neon

But

Were I to play you something,
Something like
Something like Olivia,
It would be about like so.

Wouldn't it, now?
That was for you


Also, special thanks to Fayre for giving me the first song.
most types eat insects
are shrill-voiced passerine birds
they have hooked beaks, shrike
Kayla Nieto Dec 2015
I strongly dislike you.
I strongly dislike shoe.
I strongly dislike boo.
There's nothing that I strongly like.
Except for blike.
And ****.
And shrike.
But that's all nonsense.
Words made up.
Why do the good things never rhyme?
We all run out of time.
Leeann Nov 2016
May we dance in the firelight
And sway in the breeze
Set aglow with you
Amongst the midsummer trees

May these flights of fancy
Become long voyages borne
On the wings of dark angels
Blowing on gilded horn

And when the winter breeze
Creaks open our doors
May the grinning hearth
Warm our hearts to their cores

Watch them all; so merry, so bright
So filled with such wonderful light
Envious of those who carry their souls
In gilded mesh cages of lanterns aflight

Listen as the telltale ravings
Of men and women alike
Take flight and flare like midsummer suns
Amongst the chirps of a hunting shrike

And while the swirling storms batter our doors
Tear apart these terrible floors
So when the daily visitors arrive
It will be through pain that they shall thrive
Magnuda Jun 2019
The One I Seek

When my heart was ready, when I came of age,
I left my parent’s nest, to find a beautiful stage,
I found the perfect spot, in a very lovely tree,
To sing my little song, so my True Love could hear me.

Singing for the one that I seek,
The one that I seek
The one that I seek.

Many birds were singing, and a few answered me,
Many were very sweet but not my true love to be,
One cool afternoon, a song could be heard all around,
I finally saw her, a Cowbird with lovely feathers brown.

Singing that you were the one that I seek
The one that I seek
The one that I seek.

Your song was so merry, so high, so sweet
Your words and soft nature a gentle treat
Could you be the one that I seek?
Was it truth coming out of your beak?

Singing that you were the one that I seek
The one that I seek
The one that I seek.

A nest I had built, my heart was nestled there,
The love for my true love laid open and bare,
With the rush of winter coming, your notes did sway,
So I didn’t see you trying to roll my heart away.

Singing that you were the one that I seek
The one that I seek
The one that I seek.

I was alone so welcomed your lovely song,
Ignoring everything that told me that this was wrong,
You put your needs in my nest, saying they were mine,
I was so lost, I believed what was toxic was just fine.

Singing that you were the one I seek
The one I seek
The one I seek

Then my True Love appeared, from the warm south,
You did your best to take her words from her mouth.
That you were there first, that she would have to share,
That your needs came first, that it would be fair.

Singing that you were the one I seek
The one that I seek
The one that I seek.

I did my best to make it work, despite the heavy strain,
Nothing was good enough, proving your love was pain,
You tried to run my life and made all my friends flee,
If you were my True Love, why did you do this to me?

While singing that you were the one that I seek
The one that I seek
The one that I seek.

You thought you had it under control, had it your way,
That we would do what you wanted, to do as you say,
You dismissed her size, you so didn’t see her strike,
It was never you Cowbird; for my True Love is a Shrike.

And now you have a thorn driven through your cheek,
Through your cheek,
Through your cheek.

Farewell Cowbird, your lies were never to be enough,
Your sweet notes were misleading, your song but a bluff,
My eyes are open, and my mind is finally clear,
I sing my own song, for my True Love to hear:

That she is the one that I seek,
The one that I seek,
The one that I seek.
A W Jan 2019
Casted over me is a loom of doom.

Chained to the negativity it becomes hard to bare.

Crushed by my despair I drag it around and wear it as my armour.

Cursing at myself for the dark emotions, I shrike alone.

Covered by love I still reject.

Cannot receive when there's no respect for myself.

Chasing away the ones I hold dear is the only way I can endure.

Carrying memories that hold me back, I relive alone.

Costs I pay for my depression.
Misfired May 2018
I want to stay quiet
But before I can my mouth lest lose
All the thing I don’t want to tell you comes lose
It hurts cause it’s the truth
When they scream at me no one loves you and when I scream back you have no one to love
It’s like sending a war dove
It has beauty in its speed but pain in its message
The love that we all crave
only grows with age
We all want to turn a page
But we can’t because of the festering rage
That we all hold in our hearts to our hands
Swelling  the fingers from turning over a new leaf
Out of rage do we take our daggers from their sheath
To shrike in the worst of ways
And we each turn the blades to our hearts
We hold dear our faults
To our hearts that we both see each other’s fauls
You could expose mine and I yours
So we say nothing
And just stare at the past scars
Of getting to close to each other’s stars.
Idk if it should end their our continue in some way. Let me know ? Idk
William AL Nov 2015
The Shrike, alone in his perch,
does feel the heat of the sun
and at dawn he sleeps
while the world looks on
Tori Jacobs Mar 2016
Even at the top of my lungs
I can’t scream to the Universe
Asking, “What the hell is going on here?”
I was told sound can’t travel in space
Maybe the Universe did so as a joke
Maybe, once we become smart enough
To decide how the Universe has come to be
We’ll shoot a rocket with questions in hand
“Excuse me” We shrike, “I think this is as important as it is to you even me”
But the Universe can’t hear
She’s sound asleep
Without sound she’s lonely
So where all alone from the lack of reply
It’s up to us to find the truth in the sky.
Dawnstar Sep 2018
The flat island floods
for want of a ****;
the land turns to mud,
the landsman alike;
  cursing the robin,
  the jay and the shrike.
Kasper Oct 2019
Do you know what it's like?
To be left for the dead?
The nightmares strike
All in my head.

Do you know what it's like?
When my heart slows down?
Stabbed with a pike
I feel so drowned.

Do you know what it's like?
To be buried alive?
Here comes the shrike
He starts to arrive.

Do you know what it's like?
When death comes?
Anthony Pierre Jul 2021
when one looks  
to listen closely
it seems these books
of history
were never meant
to balance

Did you?

Consider the zulu sun
Remittances to Estcourt
Okun's Law
Offshore accounts
Karl Marx in KwaZulu-Natal
Systemic and Systematic Risks

and yet
the shrike bird sings
of monetary matters
The Fire Burns Aug 2017
From my seat upon the moon,
I hear the laughter of the loon,
see wings flashing of blue-green teal,
gazing upon a scene quite surreal.

With moonlight, I light the way,
Over open oceans albatross play,
In the blazing white Antarctic snow,
Emperor penguins black feathers glow.

Chickadees flit and perch,
the hunting shrike a meal to search,
The blue king fisher has one wish,
Clear water and a long plump fish.

Purple Martins sing and swoop,
Scissor tail flycatchers loop to loop,
The ostrich runs across the land,
But never buries its head in the sand.
Chuck Kean Mar 11
The Spore

     It lies in waiting in the darkness
Like a spider patiently waiting to strike
It attacks with the swiftness and the
Ruthlessness of a shrike

There’s no rhyme or reason
Just it’s desperation to find a host
Its victims never see it coming for
It’s as stealth as a ghost

It’s deadly as a black widow or the
The most venomous of snakes
The mere thought of it gives me chills
And the uncontrollable shakes

Its evolution has risen to the extreme
Its destruction is very evident
Death is definitely inevitable
Its superiority is overwhelmingly prevalent

Human existence is on the edge of extinction
In my heart and soul I deeply deplore
And caution the world of the Evil invaders
Humans will soon succumb to The Spore

Written By:Charles Kean
03/10/2024
Dawnstar Jul 2021
The flat island floods
for want of a ****;
the land turns to mud,
the landsman alike;
  cursing the robin,
  the jay and the shrike.

There's room in the mushroom
for twice your old rent;
ask any peddler
what money they've spent;
  odds are they collect it,
  but you are exempt.

Black vacuum accumes
our ten thousand joys,
and now I may know
why girls might shun boys;
  ogling their neighbor
  with pittance and noise.

Such trebling rancor
encircles the world,
and now I may know
why boys might fear girls;
  forsaking upbringing
  for glamor and pearls.
  
The wails of the weekend
have reached their apex,
and now they may know
why I chase the ibex;
  stifling a fever
  with cherries and ***.

— The End —