"shrike" poems
Packets of peace cordoned off by fences and barbed
wire, hooded lush in manicured fields.
Endless stream of labour crossing over water pikes:
hear, no see - river in the bush.
Emerges curved a mirror on a pole: three directions,
The three birds, tinier than my forefinger, eating grain.
Lisping away in the wood the warbler and the shrike.
Wild flower, pops out red from a corner
of the cultivated green: and I am...
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
*****
Aren't you a big shrike?
Those ***** are lady-like
And we can talk freely about other women and its not awkward
What's not to like?
Get that pike
Out of your rear
Because it's apparent
That you are not easy to like
By the way you label people nastily
It's not appealing any way.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 3:09 AM UTC
Butcher Bird
A Poem by Jeremy Wyatt
"
Simulation, brash, aloft, rebel, impale.
"
High aloft what is it I see
dripping something onto me
like a simulation of Christ's nail
now upon which you did impale
your namesake is less brash than you
happy with beetles and frogs it slew
but something darker does you drive
a rebel slaying all alive
Church steeples high you cherish best
see bodies perched high stiff at rest
the birds put creatures on barbed wire
you place your bigger prey much higher
I've written of you many times
some wee stories some small rhymes
You share a bird name both alike
the Buthcher Bird we know as Shrike
Mar 12, 2011
Mar 12, 2011 at 8:47 AM UTC
in the basement
where we keep our little gravities-
apparently the earth gave way
and hell announced a cavity.
allow for strange attractors
to collapse before they're intimate.
and never take the stairs
until you've locked the room beneath it.
according to the rule
there may be echoes from the chamber
a misery of wraiths
or a raven in the manger.
or a hackle of contempt
the very air, a shrike of drone.
an epistle from a hornet's nest-
at the back of our throats.
in the very, very quiet
where we keep our little maladies-
apparently the basement is as good a place as enmity.
allow for cain and abel
and perhaps you have the half of it,
swinging from a hook in every room we've heard it laughing in.
according to the rule
there may be black so black it's blackening
and everywhere the hoards of wane
dispel the moon
because.
Sep 19, 2011
Sep 19, 2011 at 5:24 AM UTC
in the basement
where we keep our little gravities-
apparently the earth gave way
and hell announced a cavity.
allow for strange attractors
to collapse before they're intimate.
and never take the stairs
until you've locked the room beneath it.
according to the rule
there may be echoes from the chamber
a misery of wraiths
or a raven in the manger.
or a hackle of contempt
the very air, a shrike of drone.
an epistle from a hornet's nest-
at the back of our throats.
in the very, very quiet
where we keep our little maladies-
apparently the basement is as good a place as enmity.
allow for cain and abel
and perhaps you have the half of it,
swinging from a hook in every room we've heard it laughing in.
according to the rule
there may be black so black it's blackening
and everywhere the hoards of wane
dispel the moon
because.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 3:19 AM UTC
in the basement
where we keep our little gravities-
apparently the earth gave way
and hell announced a cavity.
allow for strange attractors
to collapse before they're intimate.
and never take the stairs
until you've locked the room beneath it.
according to the rule
there may be echoes from the chamber
a misery of wraiths
or a raven in the manger.
or a hackle of contempt
the very air, a shrike of drone.
an epistle from a hornet's nest-
at the back of our throats.
in the very, very quiet
where we keep our little maladies-
apparently the basement is as good a place as enmity.
allow for cain and abel
and perhaps you have the half of it,
swinging from a hook in every room we've heard it laughing in.
according to the rule
there may be black so black it's blackening
and everywhere the hoards of wane
dispel the moon
because.
Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 3:53 PM UTC
Across the Savannah we sailed
Floating through the slipstream
Of desire.
Higher we rose, to thorny heights.
Embraced by wings
Of fire.
A kingdom freely given turns to rust
Citadel walls fall in blizzards of dust.
The air is displaced by talons
That grip from ankle to throat.
Clawing and scratching,
A noose,
A rope.
Upon the steppe I lay,
Impaled upon your
Tree of pain.
Barbed through the heart,
Saved for a rainy day.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 7:11 AM UTC
On the day of worship the Temple filled.
It had been three years since the Messiah left, and nobody had forgotten.
The Priests of Tek dawned their red robes
and Father John Misty took his place at the altar, his heart heavy yet full of chagrin.
He clears his throat,
*my fellow children of yonder Year,
my sisters of Sand,
my brothers of Dust,
my lovers of Greed,
here now what I say,
for I speaketh not.*
*for now speaks The Shrike,
for now speaks The Lord of Atonement,
your God of Pain,
your mystifying Excellence of Death.*
Father Misty reached into his black robe and drew forth a small child.
What life may have been left in the infant was destroyed when Father John Misty stuck the unmoving body onto the red spike protruding from the altar, the spike entering the body through the **** and reaching an inch from the soft skull.
Father John Misty's voice took on a lower town, yet softer, not forgiving, yet all knowing.
*This child has a name.
This child is Jesus Christ.
This child will grow as if alive.*
And before the rough congregations eyes the child began to grow on the spire. The limbs first lengthened, than filled out. The child's chest expanded and the head grew bigger. Father Misty then hoisted him off of the spire, and set him, bleeding, before the congregation. The body began to shift, jerky movements before the skin appeared to bubble. A low gutteral sound began to emanate from now full grown man. He lifted his torso and head up and looked at each member of The Temple of Ten individually.
He spoke
*I am your savior,
I am unfruitful death,
I am unwarranted pain,
I am money being cheated from the desperate man,
I am the brains taken from a lobotomite,
I am the destruction of a hurricane,
I am as dead as the gasoline you **** for,
I am as dead as you are.*
*I am Jesus Christ,
this is not the first time you've seen me,
this will not be the last.
You are allowed to die now.*
And they did.
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
*roll into a ball
and be on call
time to time
until the dew
snap and growl
whimper and moan
soar like an eagle
strike like a shrike
hop like a frog
and croak your
anxious moments
with your adam's apple
bobbing in your groans
be sweet as a dream
even when you tense up
your eyes hooded
in those cobra moments
then relax and smile like an angel
you're so venturesome
in your 'bedhaviour'*
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 4:23 AM UTC
I strongly dislike you.
I strongly dislike shoe.
I strongly dislike boo.
There's nothing that I strongly like.
Except for blike.
And ****
And shrike.
But that's all nonsense.
Words made up.
Why do the good things never rhyme?
We all run out of time.
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
My jumping from the Gmajor 9 on Fsharp of an alternate
but a similar
baseline and notes
My Master & a Hound
My hammers on fifth to eighth to fifth to third
sliding across a string at C
later a string of G
My Shrike
My narrow slide on D and B and back a middle 8
maybe a strum on an A
flowing a Bminor
My Cherry Wine, My Tennessee Whiskey
My Cadd9 alternate of C. Two steps down
one Up
Em, D-reamy
My Walk on Water
My attempts to shine you bright by a thumb
on an E
for a Csus2 to an Aflat
My Neon
But
Were I to play you something,
Something like
Something like Olivia,
It would be about like so.
Wouldn't it, now?
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 11:01 AM UTC
May we dance in the firelight
And sway in the breeze
Set aglow with you
Amongst the midsummer trees
May these flights of fancy
Become long voyages borne
On the wings of dark angels
Blowing on gilded horn
And when the winter breeze
Creaks open our doors
May the grinning hearth
Warm our hearts to their cores
Watch them all; so merry, so bright
So filled with such wonderful light
Envious of those who carry their souls
In gilded mesh cages of lanterns aflight
Listen as the telltale ravings
Of men and women alike
Take flight and flare like midsummer suns
Amongst the chirps of a hunting shrike
And while the swirling storms batter our doors
Tear apart these terrible floors
So when the daily visitors arrive
It will be through pain that they shall thrive
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 11:20 PM UTC
i used to feel
such tenderness
a calm assurance of truth
now i am hard
poised to strike
i am no one's soft place to land
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
Why would you want to
know them, you
ask of the same people
who also eat the best
parts of you.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
The One I Seek
When my heart was ready, when I came of age,
I left my parent’s nest, to find a beautiful stage,
I found the perfect spot, in a very lovely tree,
To sing my little song, so my True Love could hear me.
Singing for the one that I seek,
The one that I seek
The one that I seek.
Many birds were singing, and a few answered me,
Many were very sweet but not my true love to be,
One cool afternoon, a song could be heard all around,
I finally saw her, a Cowbird with lovely feathers brown.
Singing that you were the one that I seek
The one that I seek
The one that I seek.
Your song was so merry, so high, so sweet
Your words and soft nature a gentle treat
Could you be the one that I seek?
Was it truth coming out of your beak?
Singing that you were the one that I seek
The one that I seek
The one that I seek.
A nest I had built, my heart was nestled there,
The love for my true love laid open and bare,
With the rush of winter coming, your notes did sway,
So I didn’t see you trying to roll my heart away.
Singing that you were the one that I seek
The one that I seek
The one that I seek.
I was alone so welcomed your lovely song,
Ignoring everything that told me that this was wrong,
You put your needs in my nest, saying they were mine,
I was so lost, I believed what was toxic was just fine.
Singing that you were the one I seek
The one I seek
The one I seek
Then my True Love appeared, from the warm south,
You did your best to take her words from her mouth.
That you were there first, that she would have to share,
That your needs came first, that it would be fair.
Singing that you were the one I seek
The one that I seek
The one that I seek.
I did my best to make it work, despite the heavy strain,
Nothing was good enough, proving your love was pain,
You tried to run my life and made all my friends flee,
If you were my True Love, why did you do this to me?
While singing that you were the one that I seek
The one that I seek
The one that I seek.
You thought you had it under control, had it your way,
That we would do what you wanted, to do as you say,
You dismissed her size, you so didn’t see her strike,
It was never you Cowbird; for my True Love is a Shrike.
And now you have a thorn driven through your cheek,
Through your cheek,
Through your cheek.
Farewell Cowbird, your lies were never to be enough,
Your sweet notes were misleading, your song but a bluff,
My eyes are open, and my mind is finally clear,
I sing my own song, for my True Love to hear:
That she is the one that I seek,
The one that I seek,
The one that I seek.
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 9:14 AM UTC
Casted over me is a loom of doom.
Chained to the negativity it becomes hard to bare.
Crushed by my despair I drag it around and wear it as my armour.
Cursing at myself for the dark emotions, I shrike alone.
Covered by love I still reject.
Cannot receive when there's no respect for myself.
Chasing away the ones I hold dear is the only way I can endure.
Carrying memories that hold me back, I relive alone.
Costs I pay for my depression.
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 10:23 PM UTC
I want to stay quiet
But before I can my mouth lest lose
All the thing I don’t want to tell you comes lose
It hurts cause it’s the truth
When they scream at me no one loves you and when I scream back you have no one to love
It’s like sending a war dove
It has beauty in its speed but pain in its message
The love that we all crave
only grows with age
We all want to turn a page
But we can’t because of the festering rage
That we all hold in our hearts to our hands
Swelling the fingers from turning over a new leaf
Out of rage do we take our daggers from their sheath
To shrike in the worst of ways
And we each turn the blades to our hearts
We hold dear our faults
To our hearts that we both see each other’s fauls
You could expose mine and I yours
So we say nothing
And just stare at the past scars
Of getting to close to each other’s stars.
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 2:14 AM UTC
The Shrike, alone in his perch,
does feel the heat of the sun
and at dawn he sleeps
while the world looks on
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 8:15 AM UTC
Even at the top of my lungs
I can’t scream to the Universe
Asking, “What the hell is going on here?”
I was told sound can’t travel in space
Maybe the Universe did so as a joke
Maybe, once we become smart enough
To decide how the Universe has come to be
We’ll shoot a rocket with questions in hand
“Excuse me” We shrike, “I think this is as important as it is to you even me”
But the Universe can’t hear
She’s sound asleep
Without sound she’s lonely
So where all alone from the lack of reply
It’s up to us to find the truth in the sky.
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 7:12 PM UTC
singing notes of the sick dawn
a bird makes off with my heart
humiliation
pins it to the notice board
I'll not retrieve it
and
unclothed
be witnessed
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 6:40 PM UTC
The flat island floods
for want of a ****
the land turns to mud,
the landsman alike;
cursing the robin,
the jay and the shrike.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 9:25 PM UTC