Freddie Robinson Jr. Poet Epic

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

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