You, you, you, and you see them as filthy filth
No doubt they live off the filth
But these scavengers need be treated with love
Not because they’re stronger than the dove.
You, you, you, and you may not see the reason
Yet, in this nation lions hang on trees for “treason”.
And Vultures flap their wings and send through the air
Fragrances and freshness all would wear and bear;
And when from their thrones lions with joy
Accomplish their favorite ploy
Albeit sick and unfit to rule
In the game they fix the rule;
Slitting the throat of a prey
And it is then that vultures prey
Cleaning the gory scenes of our pavement,
Driving the quest for anything more useful to environment;
Some big fat cat do too no doubt
With Blake’s, my family totem, making me proud
But not in seeing them strife on the living,
Not even when for them this rhymes with surviving.
1 comment:
I wanted to pick this poem apart like a vulture - because I liked it so much; it was very tasty for one like me, one too much with the world!
This poem struck a strong chord with me, and I thought it wa smasterful.
The echoing "you" doubled with the double filth establishes a theme of the crowd against the few at the start of the poem. This repetition of the "you" was a delightful device, spraying word bullets at the prevailing doxa or political and social imagination that continues to plague nations across the world.
This poem came across to me as a profound meditation on the construction of the few by the many-one, the running crowds and the lion who sets the law, and the evocation of Blake's mythology was wonderfully grounded in a strong personal and political myth that I could see being played out in a suite of "Scavenger" poems. No lamb lying down for this poem: a rich vein of poetry lies in wait for the reader here.
Thanks for the poetry!
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