When Vulture Chirps
on a perch, the air stinks;
lies swarm as flies.
Dare not voice a bite of truth,
or flash a light in the dark hollow,
except to trace the way to the gallows.
As dark clouds dip, lowering,
stars slink, blinking at the rear.
The sun courses without shine;
the moon drones on timidly like
a bunch of buzzing lies.
Leeches breed in the rot,
flies in remaindered potatoes
from shrinking stalls.
Progress stills, pinched by fear;
mediocrity strides to the center stage,
vulture swoops on a sport.
© 2016 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi
Copyright © Celestine Ikwuamaesi | Year Posted 2016
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