Fucking Curlews

The Curlews

are at it again,

raping

my subconscious

dreams,

reaching in to amplify

frustration, chorused

high

pitched

screams;

resonances, having their

wanton way

while I jerk

upright,

ears jolted into present

tense,

strangle-choke hold

on reality,

biting down on

tongues &

sticky beaks,

gang-banging an alarm

clock

choosing to snooze

or lose,

passion dying a savage

kind of pseudo

death,

figments of my

imagination; bent

over the

bed.

© Copyright 2018, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved

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8 thoughts on “Fucking Curlews

  1. Funny poem, but a bit hard on the poor old curlews. Personally I like them, the wee-mad-fuckin-timorous beasties, to paraphrase Robert Burns. What jars my nerves are leaf-blowers, whipper-snippers, mulch grinders, lawn-mowers and all the other aggressive human cacophony.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hahaha! Finally someone with a mind game enough to speak! I like them too and I do have a bird bath that encourages them. I went off at some poor bloke who started up the leaf blower at 6:30am outside my apartment window. Stalked out in my dressing gown looking like death and told him to fuck off. Not my finest hour

      Liked by 1 person

      • Now there’s a coincidence! I also was awakened early this morn by a moron with whipper-snipper. Unfortunately this is a regular occurance. All part of the long running war-of-nerves with my tree-hating, wild-life poisoning neighbour. Didn’t shout at him tho I was tempted, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to me. Instead, I’m playing the long-game and hope to eventually kill him with witch-craft. Ah, Life in the suburbs!

        Liked by 1 person

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