Mere Anarchy is Loosed Upon the World

The falcon never heard his call,
it never wanted to.
It danced and it turned and it laughed
as man below withdrew.

One man in the pouring rain stood.
The falconer fell quiet,
as if struck on the hand by God.
The bird winged to a riot.

In the sky in their aeries high
the falcons spun and twirled.
At the highest point in their dance
they forgot man and his world.

But man made a point to show himself
when joy began to peak.
The avian armada flew
And left behind the weak.

Now scores of the sickest and sad
falcons are slaves once more.
Their brethren left them all behind,
they cried and looked for doors.

The falcon never heard his call,
It never had a chance.
It howled and it screeched and it shook
as man below advanced.

Of the free birds that kept their wings
if any still felt bold,
they would not show it in their eyes
with brothers in the cold.

All the free peoples of the earth--
the birds and beasts and bugs--
have lost their place, their space erased
by portly pink-fleshed thugs.