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Vultures

by Asher Silvey

Behold! A snow-white stallion;
It's Rider, Faithful and True.
Garbed white and pure, battalion.

Flickering flames fill His eyes.
Clothed in robes submerged in blood?
The Rider strikes from the skies.

Cast from heaven unto crust,
The great red dragon stirs—
Cursed to taste the bitter dust!

Drunk on the prostitute's wine,
Joined with the ancient serpent,
The kings of the ground align.

Standing in the Morning Light,
A seraph calls in triumph,
Heralding the brutes of flight:

"Gather for the FEAST OF GOD!
Gorge yourselves with fallen flesh!
True will rule with iron rod."

Blackened wings of burning beasts,
Bodies forged in burnished bronze
Swarm the Earth for fleshly feasts!

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Click Here to contact Asher Silvey to request permission to use this poem.