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 © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2020
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