A black bird singing on a black line
a broken back that begs to be set straight
a silent night of sin and niceness
nestled happily,
in bed, happy.
A black bird nesting on a telephone pole
tells his poor mother not to call
again, he’s doing fine. He’ll be alright.
Can’t even see him this black night,
this black bird, in this weak light,
can’t see right.
On this cracked streetlight can’t see right;
but somehow he’ll see his way home tonight.
Downbeat blackbird’s beaten down, but doesn’t dare to be
silent. Won’t stoop down to where he found
fortunes buried beneath the dirt,
won’t swoop down through the air
to the ground.
Silly bird sings noise songs.
Flutter through the air, fool bird
and land upon the ground.


Talk back, yo. :)

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