A Performance of Poets ~or~ A Depression of Poets

August 21, 2014

An army of ants
moving as one in rank and file.

A glaring of cats,
affection always second to style.

A school of dolphins,
second smartest animals on Earth.

A cackle of hyenas,
laughing and screeching from birth.

A pride of lions,
heads held high, surveying their land.

A parliament of rooks,
judging us all from their towers grand.

An array of hedgehogs,
spread sadly as they are across the roads.

A pandemonium of parrots,
nattering on in nonsense prose.

A scourge of mosquitos
A murder of crows

And what of us?
A ‘what?’ of men?

A deceit, an attrition?
A pollution, a torment?

A plague, like insects?
An unkindness, like ravens?

A torture, a cancer,
a misfortune, a craven?

What should we call ourselves, when we’re en masse?
Or should we just leave, and give the world back?


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