Current Mood: creative
Current Location: On the planet of my birth
Current Music: NPR

Entry tags:

chaucerian roundel

the last guardian speaks

we fear the vultures that feast on our words
so hungry for the carrion of lies
circling and circling in the cloudless skies

those are most elegant and nasty birds
they do not heed our anger nor our cries
we fear the vultures that feast on our words

they pose a danger to the milling herds
and we have not the language to apprise
them of the peril there is just surprise
we fear the vultures that feast on our words

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