an accident of nature, this bird can’t be described in Latin
or by ornithologists
it waits for Armageddon, like Osiris
it laughs, and flies away from trouble, with a 3,000-foot view
it doesn’t do what the other birds want it to, sitting in perfect rows on power lines, rehearsing nature’s songs
it watches humans too
the Ostrolope is wiser than owls, and more onery than crows
a prophetic bird
it isn’t angry, or trying to poop in the compost yard
it unloads on assholes in suits
the Ostrolope was a miserable man until he learned how to fly
Why
does he feel this way?
the walls are closing in, the paint is off-color
the whole world will be reborn in fire, not because the sun exploded
(that would be marvelous)
but because humans can’t live with each other
they kill their babies before they are born, and scream for their rights to do so
they think they have advanced as a society
but they are no different than the Aztecs
sacrificing their children to selfish gods
it is best to let them kill each other, like the slimy fish they are
educated in schools, to hate each other
poisoned by their own pollution
the Ostrolope looks at nature’s signals
at society’s scars
and loves to fly above their protests
it reads books under the stars, and longs to be far away
waiting for mushrooms clouds
the young and old, will be dying, one day
while it sings its mournful mating call
marriage is gone, like grainy VHS tape
because sex without love is cheap entertainment
Society
embraces the stranger, and kills the friend
in the end,
there will be such beautiful silence
nature will start again
I hope life doesn’t find a way
I pray
for the dead darkness
without stars.