04-18-2015, 12:54 AM
King of the Hill
Could anything be more savage than nature,
racing top speed toward the weak; canines glistening
under a hot savannah spotlight, where dreams of
escaping the food chain become bloodied
leaves of grass, painted with a wanton brush?
Cancer, thirsty as august earth, and more acutely
ravenous than the common carnivore; a glutton
unravelling the carefully crafted crests
embroidered on souls says, “Yes, I am he,
let me lay down your temples.”
Cowering to mammoth fear, towering
real and imagined, over our heads and
under our skin, we fortify our hills with hate;
evidenced most graphically by terrified men,
living at the apex, for awhile.
Could anything be more savage than nature,
racing top speed toward the weak; canines glistening
under a hot savannah spotlight, where dreams of
escaping the food chain become bloodied
leaves of grass, painted with a wanton brush?
Cancer, thirsty as august earth, and more acutely
ravenous than the common carnivore; a glutton
unravelling the carefully crafted crests
embroidered on souls says, “Yes, I am he,
let me lay down your temples.”
Cowering to mammoth fear, towering
real and imagined, over our heads and
under our skin, we fortify our hills with hate;
evidenced most graphically by terrified men,
living at the apex, for awhile.