Bloodthirsty Savages

eating my brain

forkfuls of nerve cells

going down their gullet

next are my arms

roasting on spit

bones discarded later

piles of white slivers

barbarians plunder

every morsel of me

boil my blood

to make a soup

stir and pour

hollowed out bowls

covered with skin

painted with blood

zigzag designs

discard the gristle

devour gourmet fat

shrink my head

wear it on loin cloth

make necklaces

out of white teeth

face fashioned into mask

intestines for storage

stuff them to brim

finger bones

useful for forks

liver, kidneys, hearts

are savory delicacy

cannibals in jungle

stretching food budget.

Sharp little teeth

brandished like a warning.

Saliva dripping,

He is laying in wait.

Waiting for me.

Careful now!

I mustn't get too close.

He senses my presence.

I try to sneak by his lair,

Now matter how quiet,

On my tip-toes.

An outraged wail.

He knows I'm near.

He senses my fear.

I'm startled

by his furious scream.

As if he can smell me

Or somehow,

Someway

We are connected.

Telepathically,

Internally,

Eternally.

Have you ever tried to

Call a truce

With a monster?

I did.

It didn't work out that well.

This monster is

Unreasonable.

A tyrant.

A dictator.

A carnivore.

My 3 year old son.

He really

Hates naps.

Savages?

Do you mean cannibals and theives and murderers?

Maybe.

Mostly though, they just do what they have to

To get by, survive

What about the suits?

The sharks on wall street

and the ones in the white house.

The white collar criminals,

never brought to justice

because freedom comes with a monetary price.

If you can buy a lawyer 

or a fancy car

or a crooked politician,

Feel free to be a savage 

Feel free to hurt people 

Feel free to steal and snake

Feel free to black mail 

Feel free to connive 

Feel free to be a savage 

You fight. Put your own desires before a human life. 

It's for the good of everyone,

You say.

It's for the good of the country, 

For the good of the world.

Have you told that to the world?Have you asked it what it thinks?

The world can judge for itself.

Have you told that to the victims?

A woman who weeps on a porch, clutching a letter like a lifeline.Can you hear her sobs?

Have you told her?

Have you told the orphans, the widows, the abandoned?Can you feel their dismay?

They think you are a savage.

Tell them.

See if you still disagree.

They run my neighborhood.

Constant, breaking only for food.

Movement, unending. Shifty eyes.

Dirty plans, planning lies.

Languidly, they go walking.

Loud. Irreverently talking.

On the weekends,

they multiply. They gather.

Parties abound.

Their neighbors don't matter.

I try to enjoy my tea in peace,

while odd jobs they fleece.

Rolling up and down the street

on their shiny, two wheeled beast.

No apparent law abounds

as they casually make their rounds.

They are a worry, to watch, warily.

Concerned elderly, the youth merry.

No care or thought given fairly.

Maybe I'm getting old.

But, I was never that bold.

Giving hard looks in sleeveless shirt.

Pants torn, face smudged with dirt.

One carries a stick, waves it often.

Tries to introduce animals to a coffin.

Through this, I've learned a lesson.

I'll not give in, to the obsession.

Society calls for me to have a kid.

The hell I'd be in if I did.

I'll watch, instead, their passages.

And, stay far away from the ravages

Of miniature pre-teen savages.

-Angel Fatale-