Piranha Swim Over Olive Branches

Piranha swim over olive branches 

Chasing cloud herds through dude ranches

Beheading sheep with ancient lances

Shepherd’s okay with taking chances

Because he believes it greatly enhances

His place in history

On mountain sides tin gods their plans make

To steal, plunder, command and take 

Diamonds floating on mountain lakes

In their midst linked aspen quake

Over severed roots and promises opaque

All for power’s glory

Solid footing suddenly crumbles

Dislodging boulders in a downhill rumble

Dislocated lodgers complain and grumble

At the bearded madman because he mumbles

That lofty eyes shall be humbled

But they’re not sorry

No one said 

She had no scar

So what’s with the feathers 

And the tar

Is there no honor 

For Old Glory

Hoary snails in conch shells move slow

Taunting young road runners always on the go

Who mock mother duck, ducklings in tow

Demeaned by chameleons of quid pro quo

Each proud of secret knowledge that they know

Which life is better

Eye glasses, chalk on finger tips

Book bags on shoulders and on hips

Fastidious about what passes through their lips

Vengeful for their mote-looking shoulder chips

Be very careful with humorous quips

They won’t suffer any jester

Written words float in networked clouds

Devils on stumps don’t fear to say aloud

Hateful words they would never be proud

To say to your face, they would be cowed

But since they’re cloaked in a glowing shroud

They don’t fear to send the letter

Don’t kick 

Against the pricks

This is how 

They get their kicks

When they think they’re 

Your betters

Sledge hammer tongues speak to confuse

The last are first this is their coup

Parrots repeat it on the cable news

That jackals dance on graves simply to amuse

Themselves, and their defeated foes abuse

With a sucker punch to the gut

Words, sense, and reason are their toys

Trained circus seals their balls employ

Boys are girls and girls are boys

Agree or be cut down this is your choice

When the knife's at your throat forfeit your voice

Or find a new hut

Priests of culture think they can change trees

With words change the substance of birds and bees

Demanding that all fall to their knees

This latest deity to mollify and appease

With the blood of sacrificed liberties

Draining into a new rut

Little dogs

Growl and sneer

This is how

They domineer 

When the rainbow 

Peacock struts

September 2016