Vultures! So many Vultures.

They are all waiting on their meal.

They are certain of course so they wait.

They wait to scavenge on their carrion.

Oh all these bloody Vultures!

They dare not wait till the finish line.

See how they circle on meat undead.

So certain it will fall and cease to live.

They have even set up a method for the feast.

Who to have which and what parts.

They even don’t mind aid the last blow.

Oh I imagine they’ll say ‘die quick and hasten the feast.

But those who die never really willingly go.

They hold to every pulse of life they can.

And they so tightly hold on through the fight.

And if things ends badly the vulture’s feast might be postponed.

They may not feast today from the look of things,

the fallen is up and even just starting.

How dare these bloody birds even join the plot?

How dare they all join the war against thee?

3 responses to “Vultures”

  1. You are giving vultures a bad name, them that clean up the so called roadkill and thereby stop the spread of rot and desease… The scavenger birds are even better than the human garbage collectors. Not one human knows what to do with land waste. Vultures do not have that problem.


      • Hello Klyn! Well, not technically. I realize why you want to use the metaphor as well you should! I totally hear your point. You are among bots and ‘writers’ sifting for material and attempting to glean your attention, not the other way around. But the actual bird, the vulture I mean, is important to our planet. They help the balance of our biosphere. Humans? Not so much.
        I like the intention of your poem.


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