Vulture Is as Vulture Does
Vulture Is as Vulture Does
By Arley Steinhour 012616
I was over Lebanon, seeking something to eat,
Dead things, do not wiggle beneath my feet,
But, Military caught me, looked me in the eye,
Brought me up on charges, as an Israeli Spy.
It looks as if my Poor, Vulture-Goose is cooked,
the sky, over Heaven, is now where I'm 'Booked,'
How did I know, that body was 'Mama's Son,'
He had no life, nor breath, to tell me, 'Move-on.'
So many other places, I could have chosen to Dine,
Over in Syria, I hear, dead are served with Wine,
So many to choose from, suited me just Fine,
But, no, I wanted different, without a 'Sign.'
My cage, very tiny, too small for my wing,
Guards hardly feed me, unless I sing,
They take a knife, acting like, they'll cut my throat,
But, I must be 'Publicly Beheaded,' as if a 'Scape-Goat.'
I know they won't do me honor, and dine,
On, my roasted carcass, as I may undermine,
Any chance they have, to be in Heaven,
Filled with me, a Spiritual 'Leaven.'
Remember, the vulture is made by God,
To clean the land of dead, upon the Sod,
So germs can't grow, and kill the Good,
When Vulture dines on dead, as Vultures should.
AMEN
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