A Feast For The Crows

Real and fortunate souls
righteous enough with ridden haste
steal only a glimpse
before memory serves them well
in making it a forgotten place.

The backdrop bled obsidian black
cascading darkness off suicide cliffs
below, enfolded arms of rock bottom 
await escape in freedom hell,
truth...places like this only exist
observed by demon's oblivion eyed dark nothingness.

There atop the desolate apex
hung half a'h dozen or so man-
sized corroding cages, suspended out over 
a sunless horizon,  those occupants 
never, or will never sense that angel's warm nova touch of sun...again.

Flocks of flapping coal colored crows
ripple teasing winds across tortured faces
breaking sweat from stinging eyes
seeing devil birds touch down with an elemental surprise.

Windows to the soul
make for great hor d'oeuvres,
rattling metal, bone-chilling screams
works up the birds
appetite of flesh,

Man meat rots
in the heat of dark rays
while cackling crows
watch with vulture tendencies
clinging to feast 
so greedily overfilled 
enduring evil natures of the beast
bathed in blood preying beaks have spilled.

Mad men rage
with mercy cries and wicked moans,
death awaits in a cliff hanger cage
with a quick sweep of the last unfortunates picked
clean bones,
echoing locks, harshness squawks 
a symbolic bell
the banquet is served.