Bmosquito Riding A Harley Poem by Barry A. Lanier

Living in Georgia. we grow tall corn and barley,
Mosquitos so bunyanesque, they ride a Harley.
Delicate creatures on gossamer wings,
Flying in disguise, but hearing their sing.

Ghouls on wings of victory,
Obscenely ectasied on my blood.
Understanding their needs.
But where is the love?

Gorging silence, obscenity of violation,
Filling your cup, falling off.
Infinitesimal smears of reminder,
Of all I have lost!

[ God was having a bad day when he made mosquitos. Contrary to Darwin, nature has surely degenerated. Why can't they be sterile like
mules? Reincarnated friends, who didn't like me! Blood sucking humans I can tolerate, but these hairy, frothy, obsessive-compulsive flies I cannot. They should be the State Bird of Georgia. If Eve hadn't eaten that damn apple....God sent them to punish us, or maybe every bite a reminder of omnipotence. True reverence is praise for those things we do not understand. Motivation, or you can be small and still make a mark upon the world!