---

How big, has, the Phoenix, called; Consumption, grown?

Big enough, to fill, eight-billion caskets.
Plump enough, to fill, every pot.
Wise enough, to answer,
any question, should you, ask it.
Deadly enough, to kill, any myth,
dream, wordsmith, or, naïve romancer.
It smothers, all the people, of the world, with less,
and, their; untold stories, in a vicious, ugly bind,
betwixt; it’s fiery wings, and pluming breast,
and, with a beak of fury, pecks, their eyes out, blind.
Whilst, pecking, gravely, holes in every, single plot.

How far, has, the Phoenix, called; Consumption, flown?

Around, the planet, a multitude of times.
Sprinkling, holidayed tears, in tsunamis, of, €$£¥-shaped, misery,
like, wrathful; albino equines,
or, shipwrecking; Easter, Yule -tides,
from, blinkered eyes, that, roll back, and, forth,
with, undercurrents of currency,
that, lap, and, land upon egg-shaped shores.
And, as, misfortunate souls, are lost,
to, seas of disfavour, what remains tries to remain brave,
as, Consumption, caws, upon a giant, green wave, of, destruction,
and, revels, in, the tsunami’s death-toll, and, it’s, unreported costs.

How high, does, the Phoenix, called; Consumption, fly?

Always, in, upper-echelons,
and, at, eye level, with, ivory towers.
Looking-down, upon, wistful, wretched ones,
whilst, perched on the shoulders, of, those in power,
creating, a landing strip, of, the depressioned ones,
mixing, their, black, and, dogged woe, to make, tarmacadam,
and, alongside the runway, which runs, only one way,
the verges, serve as, a eulogising memorandum,
as, there, planted, are lonesome, bereft Lily flowers.

Why, oh, why, won’t, the Phoenix, called; Consumption, die?

It only, lives as long as, you, let it.
If you, feed it, it, will always, come back.
It only, lives as long as, you, let it.
If you, need it, your spirit, will rot; green
and decay, until, finally; turning to black.
We must, pluck, and, be rid, of, the feathers; golden, and, unabashed,
from, this; bird of prey-ing on the meek,
once, we’ve killed, the Phoenix, called; Consumption,
we, can raise, a dyeing tincture, called; Future’s Freedom, out of, it’s, ash.

---

---