For me, the apocalypse happened pretty much on schedule. Almost a decade later, the war is still on, apparently. I'm not always the angry mother owl though. Dispassion comes with experience.
I wrote this on New Year's Eve, 2000, at the Studio...
Inside me
an angry mother owl
rears
at least 40 feet high
my boys within her wing.
I can see at night
and pierce the darkness with my cries.
I can heal and
can destroy
My eyes never blink
and my head turns all the way around
Heroin and Cocaine have left
all I loved smouldering ruins
I am going to take them back
One by One
from hell.
How can this hate rise so strong
against something so ambiguous
as addiction?
How can this love rise so strong?
My nostrils flare into a beak
and my shoulders become winged
and fierce.
Battle cries rend the air
Smoke obscures the ruins
One by one, my enemies
are reclaimed under my wing
safe from the war
by my side.
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