In White House concerts
the obeisant sing
for the dark Messiah
and his chosen few,
while in troubled
foreign lands
the aggrieved pray
to be saved
from his flying monkeys
without a heart.
On the Serengeti
a warthog circles a
snarling leopard cub
and guts it out of an
ageless animosity.
There evenings are
always blood red
and beautiful