What deathly horrors attracts these thousands upon thousands of crows,
When they came there was something in the air that froze.
They veil the sky, drown out all noise, cutting through the vacancy of empty leafless trees,
Never do they fail to arrive, or come quietly one by one,
They come out of nowhere, but to tell the whole city there is no sun.
As they cross under clouds, the ****** increases, seemingly never ending like the dark skies that precede them.
All of Bothell seems to joke with its ever dark skies and black bird cries.

In the Shadow Valley;
Ferocious Black Crows strike
Like poisonous propaganda of Third *****.
They circle around:
Viciously striking Children at first sight-
Leaving their frail body with ****** wounds!

Black Crows nastily grin;
Children cry; tears of fright.
The Children’s spirit scarred with sinister sin.
What will become of them?
Innocence lost by this evil sickness.
They are discarded like infected phlegm.

Voice so powerless!
Black Crows pure victims;
The Children has tasted the world’s wickedness.
Darkness now stronger;
Lost in the wilderness of dark shadows,
Will cruel corruption of evil conquer?

In the dusky distance,
The rod and staff glimmers-
Black Crows tremble at the sight of its existence.
A fire torch shimmers-
Sparking hope; Children follow like sheep
To the mystical luminous sight.  

Though wounds may be deep,
Their soul shall heal with the Light.

My comrade P. is slightly outraged
The knife is honed and spilled with blood
I dance with fairy-mushrooms on the stage
My wooden horses lined-up at the start

And flies together with black crows 
Float through the heavens getting nuts
I feel like hundred-year corpse
I feed meat-hasher with my guts

My ******* fatherland in red
Is getting mossy day by day
I look at it from high above my head
While comrade P. is turning into clay

Dive bombers, black wings spread,
satanic angels: Two crows attacked another
broken on the long grass,
consumed by grappling weeds,
unable to fly and imprisoned within
the soft melding soil as if caught
nesting; I watched from afar; a spectator at an accident
unwilling to intervene.
Darting beak, defending itself with desperate
protests: they swooped again and again-
stukas in the old war, squarking demonically
wings flapping like black pistons geared up for death-
again and again they drilled into the world of men
boring down until
in the fading light, head bowed,
the damaged crow surrendered
and vomitted out its last stored-up breath,
shining ebony slashed, in a flurry
of dangling flesh, its life hacked away-blood
dripping from its bill-
hacked away in the cold air,
its brothers, like brothers everywhere,
gorging on its flesh.

By then, I had had enough,
I refused to watch anymore. The bird
a meal for its own kind,
soon just scattered feathers
repositioning the light.
Its darkness, once a threat,
with its suggestion of forboding
now merely signalling innocence,
the victim of misrepresentation.
I left a scene that did not truly
embrace reflection, an unusual
carnival of life and death in a city
that rejected both.

You outshine the darkest night,
your robe the pale moon.
A beauty unimaginable,
a crown of roses bloom.

The tender touch of moonlight,
is the love the sea adores.
A glittering fragrance of starry flowers,
I know they are only yours.

These words were composed,
like music of the richest colors.
For you alone and only you,
would I love like a mother.

I am not a stormy ocean,
yet feelings unravel as so.
Your untouched heart reverses,
and I hear their tales of woe.

Innocence like the wind,
it blows so swiftly away.
The genuine smile so eager to love,
is now clouded today.

Burning glory,
Of such I’ve never seen.
Warmth,
Of which I’ve only dreamed.
Such light,
To shine upon the sins.
Thick smoke,
To choke the loss to win.
Who wins?
They win.
White ash,
To remind of your decay.

Crows fly,
Their carrion play.
They clap,
A murderous parade.
They bleed,
Yet they don’t so who’s to say?
I say,
You say.
Who wins?
They win.
A pause.

The next day is still.
Marrow,
***** upon the hill.
Who knows,
What happened on that day?
The monument,
To remind the price to pay.
We’ll pay.
They’ll pay.
I say,
You say.
Who wins?
They win.
They always win.