CHIEF OF THE BLACKBIRD SPIES

CHIEF OF THE BLACKBIRD SPIES

I fell up a sycamore tree 
and nearly spilled my glass of wine,
and though nobody came for me
I didn't mind it I felt fine,

for I was trading stories
w/ the chief of the black bird spies
amongst new leaves and old branches
that don't know how to tell lies...

He said to forget the job,
sack the boss, and hang the cage
which containeth all your rage
for but the minimum wage.

I said it's easy for you 
in your neighbouring Otherness -
be Nature custodial or frightening? - 
to avoid the mad enemy Stress. 

He said he finds it fun-loving
to tense-hop all around  
for cataclysm is catalyst for the cat 
that sat on the map of sound. 

Quite soon he spread his wings
until his wings were spread
and flew to Morrisons supermarket
for a tamed and manner'd head.

I think we're agreed privation 
is the mother of imagery, 
and inconsiderate violation
at the root of the creation of beauty.  
  
We bemoaned a lost society 
w/ all its malaise and cheap talk, 
its word-ways no better than 
cheep cheep squawk squawk. 

 

 

 

◄ SYMMETRY LIPS

WHICHAM VALLEY AS A SCRATCH ON A CD ►

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