Parakeets
Where once there were none now there are many.
They don’t belong you see.
They invade without a care in the world.
Don’t they know the trouble they cause?
Stealing food is their goal,
And shelter that’s rightfully others.
What will the pigeons do, the paragons of London
When those filthy freeloaders spread further
Like a disease, they won’t stop
And soon what’s left of those true Londoners will be gone.
What next? It won’t end with Peckham.
They’re remorseless,
They just don’t care what gets in their way.
Perhaps those poor grey squirrels
They won’t know what’s coming when death swoops from above.
They’re not safe I swear.
But under our care things could change.
Perhaps we could contain them in Peckham
Like you contain an epidemic.
Let them spread their disease amongst themselves
As we watch and sigh in relief.
‘They won’t get us now’ we’ll say and we’ll cheer.
We’ll be right, till the next lot arrive.
Away and Home
They walk and stare and walk and stare
Like I am some alien, not meant to be there.
I ask for help, they smile and nod
And then they simply walk off.
Is it me I ask? Is it me?
Should this place me free
Of one so clearly of another breed?
No, surely not.
That can’t be right.
I ask again, I beg, I plead.
Yet one by one they ignore me
As if I were a rotten seed
Planted by a foreign hand.
It is me. It is me.
They want this place free
Of one so clearly of another breed.
Funny that.
I leave.
I return.
With warmth and smiles I am greeted.
Refinement it may lack
Without a doubt that’s a fact.
But at least it has its humanity intact.
Parakeets 2
At first they were a wonder
Soaring above our skies
Nesting in our trees
Impacting on our lives.
But soon they multiplied.
Clearly they had lied.
The invasion, it began
Undermining us was their plan.
They took and took and took
Like a simple common crook.
With no remorse they watch
From their perches high above.
They gaze with unnerving eyes
Impacting on our lives.
Soon we’ll be the wonder
Driven away from our skies.
Don’t believe me?
Fly high, take a look below.
It sickens me, you know?
I long for the days
When we grey pigeons
Could call this place our own.
Parakeets
Where once there were none now there are many.
They don’t belong you see.
They invade without a care in the world.
Don’t they know the trouble they cause?
Stealing food is their goal,
And shelter that’s rightfully others.
What will the pigeons do, the paragons of London
When those filthy freeloaders spread further
Like a disease, they won’t stop
And soon what’s left of those true Londoners will be gone.
What next? It won’t end with Peckham.
They’re remorseless,
They just don’t care what gets in their way.
Perhaps those poor grey squirrels
They won’t know what’s coming when death swoops from above.
They’re not safe I swear.
But under our care things could change.
Perhaps we could contain them in Peckham
Like you contain an epidemic.
Let them spread their disease amongst themselves
As we watch and sigh in relief.
‘They won’t get us now’ we’ll say and we’ll cheer.
We’ll be right, till the next lot arrive.
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