THE MOB
They came looking for Us
With Axes,hoes and Clubs
Some even came bearing Stones
Ready to have our graves Enthroned!
The Ulysses were forbidden
The night was void of decoration it was Hidden.
The shimmering sun spinned without drama
And the birds whispered in-low tones: karma!
        In our hearts we'd died.
Our Countenance collapsd like falling leaves. Dried
Yet without mercy came a bellowing blow
     A harvest of tooth and blood flowed
    Scooped in baskets like fresh fruits
        Ones again we died without truth
With tears cascading our eyes like a fall
And now we remain Dead, rusted brains in our skulls .
Relishing in comforting darkness:
Nothing to sense. Void of Consideration just emptiness.
Polished by earth and Matter,
we become white and clean, even neater
Without the wanton weight of our fowl hides.
Never to be pounced again by the Mob.
         Thank God we are Now
                    DEAD