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Friday 10 May 2013

In These Days

My apotheosis is the crow
which in it's sleek sweep stoops
to carcass-feed. 

To peck
at mouldering eyes, over
ripe flesh is 
the only art that matters
when
a pope rates as news
alongside nuclear
war's overkill and
royal bloatings, as
insipid adverts bend 
minds to purchase pointless 
products to swell
the landfill that is our
urban life. 

Let go! Fly and feed on
all the noxious things and by
so doing
end
their power to defile us. 
Thrive in revile; victory for
all who swallow 
all, even
their puke. 

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