Monday, 8 February 2010

Insect Song

The buzz and beat
Of wings, and feet
Intertwined with air lift
Fear and madness, when we
Sting and drape
Our weaves

On clumsy heads and minds,
That see no shine
In carapace or patterned
elegance-stranded between two walls.
Where are your
Higher-vaunted virtues

now? When you crush
And stamp and crack -
This is genocide, with gas and spray
The panic-squealing stricken
Flee to crannies.
-There's no escape from your poison.

We are fleeing now,
But remember this;
We were here before, singing
Our buzzing-beating,
Winged-fleeting song
And we'll remain.

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