for death is come up

For death is come up into our win­dows, and is entered into our palaces,
to cut off the chil­dren from with­out, and the young men from the streets.

in spite of bear paw rat­tles and gar­lic neck­laces
death came up and took our good king bobo

death dared not come him­self, nor did he warn about
the shell he would leave where once some­body dwelt

death, in bobo’s time, hid beneath our feet
with our soon enough for­got­ten fellows

death was the “short-fingered vul­gar­ian“
who col­lected coins for the flat-bottomed boat ride

now death is all about num­bers and brag­ging rights—
dozens for the large capac­ity mag­a­zine; scores for the sud­den drone strike


10 thoughts on “for death is come up

  1. Eugenius

    You have me won­der­ing tonight about my own bear paw rat­tles and gar­lic neck­laces. What are they, I wonder?

    I like the poem, I miss the poet.

  2. mindy

    Don­ald Trump as Charon; drones as the entrepreneur’s inspi­ra­tion for mass mar­ket­ing death
    Scorch them monkey.

  3. Susan Bentley

    Oh BD, how many peo­ple have encoun­tered a vio­lent death since you posted this poem? I can really “see“this poem”. ..I miss BoBo.


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