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I don't want to count the crows
Don't want to focus on my woes
When life has me in it's throws
I don't need another omen

I don't want to watch the stars
And wonder where you are
I'd rather you pick up the call
Than hear the line ring open

I don't want to hear that voice
Telling me that you made a choice
When we should just rejoice
Instead of stand here frozen

I don't want to say goodbye
I want you to be alright
Don't want to beg the open sky
Or cry a ******* ocean

I don't want to count the crows
I want you to come home
Without you, you must know
How many hearts will be broken
My friend is in the hospital. I don't want him to die. I dont want to burying another loved one. Please wake up.
Norman Crane May 5
downpast where the divermin dont go
is an underwater sun
that casts a blackhole shadow
in to the fishes swim
but they donnot swim out
where oh where do they fishes go
after theybin drowngone in the shadow
after theybin infosucked by the blackhole
i say i dont know
but some days i think i seem them
floating on the cloud forms
as crows
Parker Vance Feb 24
Crow's feathers like
The exoskeleton
Of a long-nose weevil,

The color of
Mom's grease-stained
Pots illuminated in moonlight.

They're a mind
That's gone dark
With a tunnel straight through,

Like a billion
Ants all piled
On- throbbing

Can you hear
Them *******,
Hear them slurping?

Those oily wings
Writhe in air like bodies
Launched from 90-story trade buildings

They close their eyes;
Sleep forever
Bathing in crow's feathers.
when you hear the crows,
head towards hollow spaces.

they will be both soft and loud
like something she said,
that you forgot to listen to.

catch glimpses of her in flight.
in the darkness of the night.
for my sister, who desperately begged me to write about crows.
Jaicob Dec 2020
I'll dance in the graceful moonlight
I'll sing with the mourning crows..
I'll walk with you at midnight
On routes we seldom go.

We'll walk away to Rome.
I'd love to go with you.
Anywhere is peaceful there
My eyes leak fresh morning dew.

I look into your eyes, waiting
For a response to me.
Hoping you'll smile back down
And use the pronoun 'we'

My heart swoons, creeping
Along at lazy pace
And finally speeding up again
When it's me whom you embrace.

After sitting next to you,
And staring at the stars,
Finding constellations,
And mapping adventures far,

My eyelids close then silently,
And in your arms I fall under.
Now sleeping peacefully,
My dreams pique wonders.
Kristin Nov 2020
A piece
of a ouija board
sits in the Los Angeles River
as the inky crows squawk nearby

I pace
along this polluted trickle
of a river
as the crows flutter by

a runner darts near
without his mask
I shudder

we all
fall down
Tim Morris Nov 2020
i wonder why that group of crows, that ******,
burst forth from the treetops
of that tiny patch of woods
next to the city park -
silent, except for the beating of

sixteen pairs of wings -
an oddity if you know crows and their penchant
for jibber-jabber.
i wonder what it was that frightened them so,
and am unnerved by their silence.

unnerved by the knowledge that something
so sinister could be lurking so close
and not hiding behind a pulpit or badge.
the sun sets earlier and earlier these days,
and the news is always on.

Jonathan Moya Oct 2020
The cairns are mothered
by murders of crowsβ€”

four stones as black as raven eggs,
others sky blue with specks of black,

pointing this way to heaven,
pointing this way to hell,

or is it to Tecumseh’s grave,
the bones of all buffaloes?

But then crows are great tricksters,
erecting spoof vortexes, medicine wheels.

They see everything at ground level,
the new landscape under their feet,
the old air lifting their wings.

They revel in the unbalancing
of everyday things

the sun, the moon,
the earth, the sky.

They will flip flop when all are asleep
and flop right back in the waking dream.  

Crows know the cairn formed
where Cain and David’s stone’s fell,
where Jesus dare not cast the first one.

They know what happened to those
who stole the middle stone
causing the soldier to come,

the ones who rose when
their gravestones were removed,

the ones that mark where
the things of life are buried,

even the feather cairns that line
to the final game jump.
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