Sunday, 13 December 2009

#10. Not Really Into Scaring Crows

Rows of them sat up on that roof top
hopping around before they drop off.
Stopping our day while we all watch
that murder heard itself around us -
surrounding us and closing in.
Yeah it's called a 'murder' when there's
lots of crows,
did you know?
Figured I'd drop some literary references
dangle pretences in wet suspense
and question scaring crows at all.
How do scarecrows even work?
A stick and some hay in a shirt
poking out of the crops
maybe wearing a smirk.
These crows just sit on the wooden cross
lifting some failed hero stolen from the
horses, who'll now go hungry.
They are not afraid.
They're plotting. Something, I've not worked
out yet. Not that anyone would believe me.
"Hey mr, these crows over here 
are plotting to eat you,
rip apart your moustache and give you bird flu" 

The crows are growing. Evolving
into demons. Cascading into bullets
threatening the farmers wife.  
She's on the menu tonight
along with the dog, who's been taken for starters.
It's a scary place out on these pastures
it's no wonder he ran away.
When the girl with the sparkles
let the scarecrow down off his crucifix
he was shitting bricks.
Ran along the Old Road until he ran out
of all the yellow.
Mellowed out catching his breath
Left us here to watch them peck.
I guess I almost warned you
before they flew down and consumed you.
And I promise I didn't enjoy watching
them prize open the boy
or them deploying the second wave
wiping everything left out.
Not sure how they missed me
they seemed to resist me.
Bet your pissed I didn't try to scare the crows,
all those rows of them -

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