Roar Shock

 

Intending the flock
  to be aimless and unarmed
   De Miloed and defiled, unshorn and unbridled
    Yet saddled
      with unimagined ideas
Waiting inTechnicolor limbo
   To be loosed
     Upon an unsuspecting zeitgeist

They fill in the blank
  stares to high heaven
    Leading men nowhere, everywhere
     Under where
       the wild things ‘R’ us they
board the e pluribus to the unum of oneness
   Disembarking
      at a catatonic lawn jockey

Jazzbirds above
  who happen to be black
   Silently rebel without their caws
     Never more
      attentive to the poetry of their polemic
As either/orphans two abreast below
   Do suckle
     at whichever teat leaks first




 

 

 

 

 

 

© 2018 Tom Manche