Monday, November 20, 2017

Parish of the Piranha

Parish of the Piranha


Noise measured by the stillness of the murky waters 

The river twisting and bending obsessively

Anchored river canoes mark each forlorn village

Women washing the day’s laundry by the muddy river banks

Men tilling their small earthen plots

Children frolicking as they feed the goats and chickens

Their hillbilly fashion complemented only by smiles

Their tranquility surrounded by onlooking predators

Money as alien as a toaster

Rules as foreign as a street hooker

Conflict as distant as the moon

The place where modern man is the pariah

Welcome to the parish of the piranha

A simple crucifix round the neck marks God’s temple

Where the devil's children swim beneath the water



Thank you,
Joseph Pede

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