I hear the painful cries

of the eagle, in trouble,

atop mountainous, leafy domain.

Could these distressed sounds

signal talons, wings & beaks;

fettered, clipped, broken?


Blue-sprayed skies pushed aside

by crematory-colored storm clouds.

Lemon-sun forsaken.

The eagle cries;

squeezes out gods of greed

upon the altars of the needy.


Reptillian eyes of dark lords

wax brilliant, yellow-topaz

watching life-blood drip upon

crocodile-cracked, earth crevices.


The bone shattering cries

of the eagle are being heard

above the level of humankind.


We are in the season of the

separation of wheat & tares;

angels have been assigned

to stamp our expiration dates.


Cease from all quarrels.

May heaven help us all.


Alice Parris

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