History’s Dirty Mouth


 

History’s Dirty Mouth
 
Bald eagle
His clipped wingman
Bull-doggle
Buzz pigeons
And hurtle
Toward the lip
Of an abyss
 
There, the word is spoken –
As titanic abuse –
On acrid tongues
That lash
Blasted ligatures of language
Strange carbons
Charcoal limb joining limb
Children’s, women’s, men’s
Scorched flesh, fused bone
Flesh thousand mouthed
All smothered
A clamouring none.
 
Bald eagle
Draws in a claw
And chucks bull-doggle
Beneath his dribbling maw
Snorts
Then rolls his tongue round the cruel carapace
Of his blunt beak
And touches base.
 
His ‘haves’, ‘have mores’
Raise fell bills
From entrails
Of prime periodicals
And taste the air for new resource.
Subsequent drafts of enterprising spin
Lift bald eagles grievious span, his covertous wing
Sucks up deep sources –
Thick fats, rich oils –
Into a wheeling flux
Dirtying, vaccuuming the very earth’s breath
From beneath pigeon’s light flight-feathers
Like a sweeping, stealth tax.
 
Now, here a tale can be told.
Once, the sun
Ne’er set on bull-doggle,
His shadow shrouded
The globe.
Then, this celestial torch
Passed behind bald eagle
And his bounteous shade
Cooled each pigeon tribe.
No longer empire,
This benificent leader
Now turned on terror,
E’en concedes error,
But to set the presses
In running off at the inky mouth
The business
Of a paper successor.
So, every four or five year
We homing-pigeon flocks
Wheel about, paint flecks
On the sky of our seasonal treks
To nest at the derelict
Ballot box.
 
But our clutch
Of addled eggs thin and crack,
Draw fell bills
That test and slash –
A screech-song
On their carapaced tongue –
As they riot
Amongst the blood, the yoke-sack sick,
Hair-feathered half-formed flesh,
Variegate tissue,
Of our shelled, our dehoused chicks.
 
Yet, the established lexicon of signs
Say bald eagle
Is benificent
Bull-doggle ‘benign’.
And despite his loose-chopped drivel
Bull-doggle
Is a known
To make poodles swoon,
If Afghans swivel.
For bull-doggle
Oft embarks
On fly orbits of the globe
Godly doggle-collar
Ringing his winding neck.
His quick tongue
Threading this holy hoop, –
Spun by blunt bald eagle –
Bull-doggle unravels every lowly pigeon dream
Extricates every lofty eagle qualm.
 
For bald eagle,
His ripped wingman,
Bull-doggle
Send down tough love
From above.
So thrive, ye perished children
‘Neath this strict embargo;
Prosper, ye perished women
‘Neath this smart-bomb cargo;
Flourish, ye perished men
For we pound, we flatten
This desert platform,
To suck up thick fats, rich oils -
Foundation for distant shopping malls,
E’en perhaps for raising schools
And undeserved hospitals,
But for multi-providers
Of mobile networks;
So open full your still mouths
And make that celestial call.
Flourish, ye glimmering people,
Why don’t you just all…
 
 
 
Kelvin Yearwood

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