Emerged from powder dust

Zeppelins fall
into earths lap;
blood circles
marked shoulders
people ran over
by Panzer chains.
the alive and the dead
separated only by scream;
buried under tons of steel.
Angels chore
high pitched screams,
Trumpets of Jericho shaking.
Dark clouds
spit acid rain
made from engine smoke;
corrosive ideology
vortex of complicated
stigmas and pragmatism
turn them over
till they melt into one.
Dark feathers.
A crow.
A black bird plunges to the ground.
Normally, they glide over roads.
He visits only
to get fed.
When I’m alone and quiet
he sometimes decided to sit with me,
looks at me.
I’ll feed him
the blind,
with the closed beak
He crows at me.
like he wants to tell me something,
but I don’t understand the language of crows.
I know that;
it’s a warning.
that he crows at me.
A seer could
see me more,
but charlatans roam the streets
and sell their wisdom
for a mansion
and I fought too
to keep their dream alive.
It just takes time to process;
some have nice memories stored
behind their tragedies;
you are better off
to read from bones,
Will not bring
the dead back
to life; back on track
left sockets picked clean
the crow rises into the air,
moves away,
and takes my worries with him
as close to him
the skin of another zeppelin bursts open.

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