Whatever happened to the birds of Iraq? <br />The desecrated, dilapidated, bloody oiled birds of Iraq. <br />Inside the sand the seashells ran, <br />Amongst the refuse we think we scam, <br />Along the bullet riddled street signs, <br />Atop the broken power lines. <br /> <br />Whatever happened to those birds of Iraq? <br />The wind is blowing, <br />unprejudiced, unforgiving knowing. <br />Flighty feathery birds, far from our words. <br />Tanks and central banks, bills and the score of kills. <br />Why then those birds of Iraq? <br /> <br />Left their mark upon our back, those birds of Iraq. <br />Remember inside the sack, remnants of flack. <br />Cold now. Dead How? <br />Somehow. <br />The mark on our back, <br />Those birds of Iraq. <br /> <br />Laughing for the sun, having some fun. <br />Grinning behind the shot of a gun. <br />Have we always been on the run from the birds <br />The raptors capture you. Capillary burst, hunger, thirst. <br />Imprisonment first, they refuse to forget the worst. <br />The birds of Iraq. <br /> <br />Balancing lines of lies, uncovering the spies. <br />Birds of Iraq. <br />Unable to have love? Poor, wilting dove. <br />Hear the speech? Sounds somewhat like a screech. <br />The birds? No dearest the words, the judgment, entrapment. <br />For we cannot escape the birds of Iraq.<br /><br />Samson Minder<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/birds-of-iraq/
