A Lineage of Vultures from Hell
I crossed an ocean to unearth my roots,
To find the branches of my hidden tree.
Thirty-eight strangers wearing friendly suits,
Thirty-eight wolves who smiled to welcome me.
In that old village, secrets wore a mask,
Their cunning eyes disguised as open doors.
But stripping me was their intended task,
To leave me bleeding on their wooden floors.
"You're filthy rich," they hissed into the cold,
While robbing every treasure that I kept.
They traded blood for silver and for gold,
And showed no mercy.
Vultures
They circle the sky.
Waiting patiently for something to die.
Back roads collect roadkill
They see far away over the hill
Flying creatures from above.
A fascinating bird brown in mud.
Vultures circling in the air.
Where the corpse is, they will gather.
A final plague is in place.
No fear face to face.
To the brink of death.
Wandering around just waiting overhead.
To them everywhere is a graveyard.
Beautiful food is not too far.
Buzzards wait their turn in line.
They stare down the dead on a metal sign.
Feed off the dead.
What a creepy job they have.
They will eat the corpse to the bone.
Their eyes are red resting next to a tombstone.
I see
beyond the ravenous t a l o n s
of v e
n g
e f
u l vultures,
draped in crests
of fluorescent blue,
b
l
E
e
d
I
n
g
deception in b u r
n i
n g solitude~
e c l i p s e d ... amidst their heart,
bruised
by resentment...
There are vultures perched on the
lampposts of Florida
You can hear their young calling
in the morning breeze
They search for the desert that
was once their home
It's forgotten for now, a relic of the past
So they just sit and wait
Height 6'1", checked.
Waist a breath, legs a line,
checked.
Horned jaws, a sharp decree,
checked.
Weight, a feather's fallacy,
checked.
Groomed, primed, pinched,
poked,
A porcelain doll to be arrayed
before the hungry gaze of
vultures.
A spectacle, framed and bright,
Fascination of the surface.
This is what life on heels looks
like, my dear.
The longer you spend on it,
the more unbearable.
The brighter you shine, the faster
you burn.
Stay too long on these sharpened
stakes,
And bone yields, the spirit breaks.
A wound unseen, a silent tear,
Scars from the heels are hard to
heal.
The virtues, sacrificed
By muscling vices,
Lay dying
Across the dusty crusts of Earth.
The sky, once admirably azure,
Now bleeds dark streams of gray
Above the sight of flying vultures
Flapping, circling in wait.
Morbid is the choice of murdering heart
Crept creeping misdemeanors under developed
Killed or be killed vultures
Fall into the waters, the seas
Ripping up dead salmon
4/9/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
In the shadows, harpies linger as agents provocateur,
for the Fallen Watchers, for pecking order.
Prostitute mercenaries,
addicted to mercury and disorder.
Their claws sharp, their cries a shiver,
their motive insanity from hell's hateful quiver.
They pluck you from the light of day,
leave you in the flames to barter the fray,
to drown in the sea of faith no more.
Till nightfall,
where they tend the fires of a black wind,
poking signal lures,
preying for entropic thunder,
and romantic moon,
lyres to ascend your spirit
for the purpose of dropping you again
in despairs pit and swoon.
Denoting your abandonment and seclusion,
shoeing the fit,
wild horses couldn't drag them away.
Hoping to find you behind chaos's fire-line,
enemy mine,
a broken rhyme-
not asKing for a new day;
a soul adrift, in a sea of doubt,
no compass, no sails, no wind,
no faith, "tag you're it, hide your eyes and don't count."
on being saved from the fade to black
from grey lack of faith.
Prices rise, incomes fall
Terrorism reigns, nuclear pall
Health care declines, rich people dine
War everywhere, machine guns whine
What happened to ‘peace and love’
When did the vulture devour the dove
Where did ‘post-20th century’ go
~ but human nature never grows
I'm something I'm not proud to be,
but what if this something has always been me?
What if the monster that crawls in me is just my heart?
What if it explodes before I tear it apart?
My ruins will fly,
like vultures in the sky.
Picking on the dirt they find,
of the ground and my dead body's hind.
I tore papers to calm myself.
The only relief i got was none.
So i took the blade and carved myself,
and all it gave me was fun.
-ag
Committee of Vultures
There they sit squabbling
Up in a tree or on the ground
Waiting greedily for the next carcass
Laughing, they don’t care how it got dead
Always waiting to rip to shreds
Pushing and shoving to be the first
They yearn for blood but it's rotting flesh
They will pick and pick, till the bones are bare
Their sharp beaks, squawk who’s best
They preen their feathers ever so proud
The putrid stench still sticks to their feathers
In their committee they huddle, another to devour
To The One I Lost Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Placed 3rd
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Like a nymph from Arden,
She entered my life’s garden.
Like lightning to me, she came;
For me, she was an ideal dame.
As feminine as a jasmine flower,
She found in me a protective bower.
I traced sweet nectar in her talk,
And a dancing swan in her walk.
Her floating hair for me was a cascade,
Placing my face in it, like a child I played.
Listening to the sounds her anklets made,
In rapturous mood, my head I swayed.
Arm in arm, in all kinds of weather,
Like love birds, we moved together.
People’s evil eye badly cast on us;
Like wild fire, it led to a deadly fuss.
Against us, our own damn cultures,
Played in disguise the roles of vultures.
They rested not until we parted,
And to heaven our souls departed.
silence can be
proverbially golden
when cracks appear
patina can seal the fissures
and cradle what is left
once speechless bubbles
make reason and sense
until the arbiter of emotion
glows from the dark
peace emerges
from quietude and honesty
as alchemy turns falseness
into precious verdicts
little birds start talking to a rainbow
in between picking at the worms
of time and growth
the albatross is set free
red mountain
stands still
black ribbon
cuts between
you aren't always
still
not if by faith
I can cast you into the sea
still
is never
forever
but still we are
not so long
have I
not been the traffic
cutting between
still
to know something
I would cast you into
the sea
but these problems
I need
red mountain
big rough ugly
barren pile of rocks
you comfort me
vultures, ravens, and crows
soar up your slopes
roost on your ridges
nest in your
craggy clefts
don't worry
stone mamma
I command you to be
still
forever
poor scavengers and
I need you
this ceaseless stream
of fud
dividing us
I cast
into the sea
with my little mustard seed
red mountain
lie still with me
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