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Ill Wind Blowing

There’s a cult fever chill in the Assyrian air Coven chants of Rabshakeh croaks are placebo heard ‘round the alabaster oval frond Toadie tongues swallow swarm of fly words, a-blowing Nineveh ill Maggot tone larvae of lies carried on an opiate pulse wind, which conscience kill Smell the fetid emanations a-blowing siren shrill Sickening Jareb adulation has an electromagnetic vibration — An idolized fealty feel o’er a static opaque Ivory pond Such a graven attraction! A tubular ill wind is a-blowing: Pinocchio sparrows love to sniff the parrot vespers — This Shalman spoiled scent is so bow, vile vapor bent A burnt brass odor that don’t spit relent Tempestuous Tiglath thoughts got those sluice echo, Beth-aven tadpoles desiring flagellated more So woe much more odious, Pul windpipe pestilence An unpalatable breeze message sent: Let Sennacherib penny pus lips sordid profit kiss the covetous wound not cured

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Date: 1/15/2020 3:57:00 AM
I have not forgotten you. I love your poems even though I sometimes miss the meaning. Your knowledge is vast. I especially liked the line Maggot tone larvae of lies. Come to Malta and I'll show thousands of them.
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