Don’t you dare disturb
those crows.
Those crows been
up in that tree
longer than you’d know.
Don’t you dare disturb
those crows.
Up there they perch
with midnight beak askew,
sharpened talons gripping silky bark
ready to tear the flesh off
the wayward field mouse.
Eyes translucent black
they see right through you.
Cock-a-doodle-do.
You’d better have grit
in your heart
to travel in these woods.
Them crows be always
one step ahead of you.
That’s cos they got 99
to the 1 of you.
They may seem fearful,
stepping back,
retreating to their branches.
Just be careful overhead
when you walk beneath
them ficus.
Crows got a nasty way
of keeping track of you.
So, don’t you dare disturb
those crows.
Those crows been
up in that tree
longer than you’d know.
Don’t you dare disturb
those crows.
Now, maybe you think
you're gonna pitch a tent
and stay awhile.
See what’s going on
underneath them shooting stars.
And maybe you think those crows
will just make way
for you …
… well, maybe they may,
and maybe they won’t …
that really depends on
your own intentions.
The tree is big
and its limbs are wide.
There is space
for all who wish to reside.
Yet, as you climb up high,
into the thicket of those leafy branches
do not be too surprised
if the crows have all absconded
and flown, now left unable to follow …
You might take the tree,
but does that make you truly free,
when their silence
has stolen your thunder?
Don’t you dare disturb
those crows.
Those crows been
up in that tree
longer than you’d know.
Don’t you dare disturb
those crows.
They followed me home tonight.
I could see their shadows
lurking above
stalking my every footstep
daring me to slow my pace
pushing me forward
I ran away
feet falling fast
beating damp cobblestone.
I turned towards a darkened alley
candle light shimmering
brick cages closing in.
They circled in above my head.
Cawing, their raucous voices
taunted my path
unto my very doorstep.
Turning silver key,
I entered safer quarters.
Collapsing on my sofa,
I took solace in the knowledge
that not a moment of this
would make the evening news.
Officially, they didn’t exist.
Those crows – gazing
through my window
pecking at my eyes
filling my head
with their social discontent …
were only a figment
of my imagination
… or so I am told.
Don’t you dare disturb
those crows.
Those crows been
up in that tree
longer than you’d know.
Don’t you dare disturb
those crows.
In winter, naked branches
stretch out in all directions.
Their spindly fingers
make nest for a flock of silhouettes.
99 crows have gathered.
They gaze onto the horizon
watching and waiting
they bide their time.
The sun sets burnt orange
down before them.
Twilight marks their feeding time
the tide is now uprising.
As if a cue had just been called
they cock their heads
and lift their beaks
and though as if exploding
they burst into the sky.
Streaking black the eventide
99 crows devour the horizon.
Don’t you dare disturb
those crows.
Those crows been
up in that tree
longer than you’d know.
Don’t you dare disturb
those crows.
Now, maybe you think you’re a hawk,
circling overhead,
or the noble and bloodthirsty eagle
watching from on high,
looking down with ridicule.
onto the swarming negro masses below.
But let it just be advertized,
those crows ain’t no doves,
ready to coo and die.
They’re too experienced for that.
Their lack of attack is based
more on the intellectual,
of knowing how and where
to strike their blows
to be the most effectual.
With all your speed and strength,
the audacity of your governance
you’d never see it coming.
The crows are everywhere,
they are every one of us.
When we come
it will be from every direction.
So, don’t you dare disturb
those crows.
Those crows been
up in that tree
longer than you’d know.
Don’t you dare disturb
those crows.
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