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She's a wilderness of plumage
Posing as oasis land
You delight in feast obtrusive
Spit out the feathers and the sand

She sells passes to purgatory
She's the one that drives the bus
She wears that funny feathered hat
Flame to ash, and ash to dust

The philosophy of science
In feathers on fossils found
Evolves into language mangled
The origin of birds unwound

Moreau strangles the English
German left for Kant and Freud
Better take that jew down off that cross
It's nearly sabbath in the void

The abyss and I had a staredown
Who would be the first to blink?
I stood cool and unflappable
The abyss, it just grinned and winked

There's a living birdie singing
Outside somewhere in a living tree
No need of feathers fossilized
No plume mirages for a fee

So I asked the living birdie
Why he sings so happily
But the birdie just kept singing
Its song response enough for me

It's getting hard to smile now
The birdie sings on life's own terms
He waits for them to lower me
Whence he may feast upon the worms

So please don't waste my time with science
In philosopic words deceased
I don't care about your origin
The little jew ascends in peace

The abyss and I have a staredown
Who will be the first to blink?
Unflappable and cool is he
I grin at the abyss, and wink

 © John Kennan 7-25-20
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Submitted by rankstranger7 on May 24, 2021

1:14 min read

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    "Plumage" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 23 Jul 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/100851/plumage>.

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