A surfeit of desire feeds
The involucre ventricles of humanity’s heart
Deep grooves running their punishing course
Scored notches-resemble counting coups
Just representational lines
Of sexscapades and material gains
Chivalry died ages ago, forever lost in time
Now thistle grows only as a weed
In our Eden-worthy of extermination
Antonio Vivaldi’s melodic birds silenced
Carduelis carduelis no longer able to
Feed upon the poisoned thistledown
Instead their innocent
Feathered bodies devoured wholly
By common flies.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
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