That birds of a feather flock together…
But what about the words of old birds;
do they profligate or just migrate
gathering up momentum spinning
out of control only to circle and land
in huge drops of refuse spotting
the cement of callous empty halls
where honesty and truth
get covered in black and white
corporate suits of greedy desire
and green worms are all that matters?
They should become jailbirds…
because only ill birds foul their
They certainly shouldn’t be free
as a bird…
if only I had a couple hundred stones!