Monday, October 8, 2012

Lion Eyes

Moonshine drips into the half-moon still of late October skies.
The firmament stands as testament and finds him on all fours
growling at the dark, crunchy sounds of young Winter's grass
whose long, brown and tangled mass
glistens of Ursa's drippings on sub-Saharan thighs.

Stomach grazing the moist earth, searching with lion eyes
he spies his prey and prepares to feast before storm pours
its guts out on the plains.
These cold and dreary rains
play homage to his pain, yield credence to his cries.

Missing his chance, his hunger overcomes him and he dies,
wounds from human spears thrown from Range Rover doors
bled too much to overcome.
A wild beast to some,
a King to all that knew him, his breath fell off in sighs.

The end of African nobility,
the confirmation of life's futility.

mindbringer, 7 October 2012