This is no tale upon tit
or a praise of shameful wit
but the cry from a black raven
in the shadows of stripped soles
in safe haven
amidst shouts and retorts of
clanging teeth
to prune this forest of cactus
with naked feet
Snatch the roof from our head
give us your seat of thorn in it's
stead
as we drink from this
attenuation well
at the close of this carnival of hell
the dead lie among dying soul
the dead beneath the dying awol
The locusts are here again
to take away the gain from our
strain
as they gallop in the meadow
where they lead the way for
another show
set the stage for this sinister flag
as we join our shrouds for a new
tag
We await the arrival of the
horned Owl
or even the red-tail hawk to steal
from our bowl
as we dance through blooming
thorns and hole
to bear this totem from post to
pole
from out of twigs and tree lumps
we boldly scavenge in garbage
dumps,
Let's share in the thought and
memory of Odin,
while the hue of youth sits on
our skin
let's share in the tale of paul the
hermit
in all its rhyme and bit
with voices singing in our ears,
the potency of our charm and
tears
What good news will the tongue
daubed with mud and dung,
bring to the door of the poor,
even when we hear the raven no
more
let's join our hands across this
shroud
to tell of what we learnt aloud

good work.would love to read more of your poems.i would also like if you can paste your work on my organization website. go to www.readmypoem. go to the must read page and follow the instructions.thanks.once again,it is nice