The Birds Poem by Warri Stanley

THE BIRDS

They walked once in four years,
And fly in the sky until anoth'r four years.
There will be traffic for many years,
And the folks will bath with their own tears.
The road will be of no use,
And driv'rs will be very confuse.
Getting home mean dodging a million bullet,
Like those Iraq and Iran flitting bullet.
Pastors who teach their doctrines to their members,
And those men who gather humans just for numbers.
They're the birds.

Those broth'rs who fly like the birds,
They're all crafty humanness birds.
They fly very high like the eagle,
And look down on the people very little.
They've flew away with their vision,
Flying in and out is just their mission.
They're the birds.

Those our little siblings who just grew feathers,
who have possessed the wont of our fathers.
They're the birds.

Those happily gravediggers on the road.
And the dogs, who collect gelt to carry any load.
They're the birds.

Those rough roads rust to dust,
Tint glasses and giant tyres who evade the dust.
They're the birds.

Market women who has nothing to sell,
Are at the road side waiting for school bell.
All their little goods has sour,
Coz they're waiting to soar.
They're the birds.

Those fake smiles you see on the posters,
Which they gummed in all the pillars.
They're the birds.

The jubilation in every Tv station,
And cunning laughs in every radio station.
All, who are in the queue,
Waiting for the time due.
They're the birds.

-WARRI STANLEY