Monday, April 4, 2016

April 4 - A Murder of Crows


A Murder of Crows
By Tom King

The world is sick with critics,
Like vampires sucking out the blood
Of all who manage to get up off their bottoms,
Pecking away at the things that we’ve loved into being
 – the crows descend.

Critics are parasites, black birds descending,
Feeding on the best that we have done;
Art, music, words, movies, plays and books,
Even upon the simplest, best-loved of our creations
       the crows descend.

Crows are thieves when you think about it.
They do not make, they do not create, they do not lift up, .
They peck away at all we've formed with energy and love.
No matter what we've done or how hard we've worked.
                                                –       the crows descend.

What we need are the opposite of crows
Unselfish folk – appreciaters, encouragers, lovers
Of those who try; of those who put themselves out there.
Scarecrows in the fields of human endeavor to keep
       the crows away

ã 2016 by Tom King

No comments:

Post a Comment