I
From the top of the yellow box
The eagle of death
Spreads its wings
Its feeding frenzy
Driving it relentlessly
Passing to and fro
In an ever decreasing circle
Slowly above our heads
Its silent flight in the late winter afternoon
Carried by the thermal currents
Is portent of ominous danger
Even the playful dog,
Has noticed the moving shadow
Circling up above, centred around us
And frozen on the spot,
Awaits the inevitable
When suddenly it recovers movement
And shoots horizontally like an arrow
Across the paddock
Taking shelter under the copse of grey box
The eagle veering away in frustration
In search of an easier prey.
II
The eagle of death
Spreads again its wings
Searching for a new ticket
Barely satiated
By its previous catch
An old cancerous body
Clutched away from
The stunned surgeon hands
In a theatre operation
Hospitals are always
A good hunting ground
Against the all devouring hunger
Needing to be consistently fed
Eternally demanding at its core.
III
The shadow of the eagle of death
Hovers above the gory scene
Of its latest bloody heist
Having scored aplenty
Through the innate insanity
Born of man made faith
Joined with the ultimate killing machine
In a moment of blind crazed furore
For once the ever starving winged creature
Does not feel the corrosive hunger pangs
Contently spreads its wings to return
To its high eyrie, sated for the present.
IV
With every feed
The beast grows in girth
Its wingspan spreads over lands
Ravaged by wars, the list is endless
The culling increases on a daily basis
Still famished the eagle's shadow
Darkens the sky of the neighbouring countries
No death ever satisfies its ravenous appetite
It's always looking for more
More deaths, more destruction
The bigger, the better
The eagle of death endlessly
In ever decreasing circles
Targets new victims.
