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The Literary Groong - 04/23/2011

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	By Bedros Afeyan

	No country of no man can do but swallow
	No woman of any breadth can envy or endure
	In our natures, killers or survivors
	Little Turkeys who peck the meek, deformed to death
	And once started can not stop pecking till all are dead

	In our nature, little Turkeys, we too would kill or could so dare
	But for domestication, commercialization
	Fear of deities more hollow
	Than a desert freeze, a midnight owl's stare
	And we are done, our myths imploded
	Our piss no longer runs, our heads are bowed and hung.

	Tall tailed sculpted heroes varnished by street prostitutes
	Shiny replicas of gargled glory used as props in motel rooms
	Little plastic Jesus, little Sasountsi Tavit, plastic Ara Keghetsig
	Shoved into altars of love, exit bloody, dripping, blind
	Howling for the taxi driver downstairs to drive off
	Leave you to join skull mounds, wreaths, centennial prayers,
	Covered head dressed, bow legged, blackened survivor
	Wrinkled, poked and stroked again, in unfinished braids of pride.

	Bedros Afeyan
	Pleasanton, CA

Dr. Bedros Afeyan is a theoretical physicist who works and lives in
the Bay area with his wife, Marine. He writes in Armenian and in
English and also paints and sculpts. Samples of his work can be found
on the web by clicking on his personal web pages at:

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