Crow Pecks At B***h

Man is flawed.

His dead soul replete of shade.

The physical, a Brechtian outsider -

Spits, talks to audience naked

But for bloody ankles,

Keeps saying, move on, move on.

 

Many souls soar, rare grey doves.

Each rare grey dove

Its wings clipped, eyes ruthless, knows no peace.

A flight of melancholy.

 

I know it is me, me in black sky, a shudder of lives -

A murder of cries. Crow disguised as dove, pecks at b***h.

Reviews

[icaros13]

Incredible. (enter applause here) Let's all take a moment of silence for the reference to Bertolt Brecht... I can't decide which stanza is my favorite because all three are equally stunning. I love the image of restless souls in the form of doves with wings clipped. "Crow disguised as dove, pecks at b***h". That has to be one of my all time favorite lines. I'm a sucker for anything with Crows. (my favorite bird) Once again, you have proven yourself a master.

[Rosalind Gale]

Thank you icaros!
-xx-

[Rosalind Gale]

PS - I meant to say, the Brechtian reference is a throw-back to my younger days as an aspiring actress!! -xxx-

[...]

Outstanding!

[Rosalind Gale]

Thank you Lynn -xx-