Keep the Feathers For Me
when you kill the fat chickens
to fill your big bellies and pet kittens
please keep the feathers for me
I crave to craft some strong and long wings
that I should fly to those deceased things,
sweated for, but betrayed by your flaw;
a betrayed free home for us all
I want to fly there, this dirty and bare,
my sick body to have that touch of care,
long gone, seasoned by burdens of shared tablets
as prescriptions, a mockery to what the law stipulates
I want to fly there, this dirty and bare,
my car cistern once more to overflow and dare
the long, dusty, twisting and twirling ramps
no longer to bear nippy nights at fuel pumps,
I want to fly there, this dirty and bare,
my crackled hands foreign currency to bear
and to believe blackouts are but apocalypse;
to touch taps that run throughout without lapse
I want to fly there, this dirty and bare,
my colours to openly and boldly declare
and talk my blues without a worried glance
over my bony shoulders in fear of a pounce
a smack or a tirade of name-calling
from arrogant mouths, frothing and fluffing.
so when you kill the fat chickens
and wine and dine the remains
please keep the feathers for me.
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