Rustlings of the Wind: Cannibals by J. Kevin Wolfe

Cannibals
by J. Kevin Wolfe

I was standing at the gates of Hell
A vegetarian shook the iron from inside
and with a horrid face, "Cannibals,
we're all Cannibals" he sighed

In his zeal he'd killed a hunter
Satan, like remorse itself, had said
"I give you Hell", spat upon his hand
and pressed it hard to his head

Had relieved him of his ignorance
A third-eye-sight of all that lives
Carrots have such simple souls
over which dominion man God gives

Now the orange is cute and cuddly
since Satan chanted unto him
"Bird, beast, rutabeg, rice: eating: is death: is sacrifice"
He now: forever starving (yet appetite dim)

But he can't sever a cabbage's head
for now to him it seems animal
And his stomach grumbles in a dirge:
"Cannibals, we're all cannibals."

J. Kevin Wolfe writes professionally and writes poetry as therapy to relieve the trauma caused by writing professionally. His poems appear incessantly on the Web and have appeared in the print publications: Paris/Atlantic, Voice, One Dog Press, The Body Inside, Maelstrom, Along the Path, and Silhouettes In The Electric Sky. He hopes someday to have enough money to lose day trading.

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