by CJ Maleney   Oct 10, 2018

The beasts who feed upon dead flesh,
Are no different to those in suits.
Matted fur or wings like night,
Or some gentleman in shinny boots.

The horror of the deeds men do,
Leave rivers flowing with blood.
The flow of such man made things
Can't be fully understood.

Yet as a race we create the feast,
Until our lineage can't be reborn,
But we will never ever stop the carnage,
We create, and are the carrion.

Sit behind desks, if you choose.
And peruse your figures and your facts,
Comfortable with your profit and loss,
Scales will not be balanced by your acts.

View your empire from a safe haven,
Surround yourselves with mighty walls,
Remember revolutions my dears,
And how the aristocracy did fall.

When time and time again the humble pay,
When from their world you take your bite,
Remember, teeth can leave impressions
So can the taking of a life!

You think your legacy lives and evolves?
Perhaps! Yet perhaps it never should.
But perhaps a feast for the most vile of beasts,
A rotten banquet in the mud.


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Latest Comments

  • 1 year ago

    by Milly Hayward

    An excellent piece that goes straight onto my favourites. Milly x

    • 1 year ago

      by CJ Maleney

      Pleased you liked it Mills.

      Craig x

  • 1 year ago

    by Muhammad Amiruddeen

    I think is about the terrors of mindless war ls and senseless killings happening around us and we do nothing. Thinking that it would not reach us from our high and mighty fortress. A beautiful piece it is with no doubt. I enjoyed it.

    • 1 year ago

      by CJ Maleney

      Yes often those who pull the strings will never be the ones who have to face the violence of their decisions.

      Glad you enjoyed the read.


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