Jealousy of Song

You birds in the trees
cannot compete with the songs of man
your tuneless chittering
holds no sway upon my primate ears
sooner with you into my oven
than into my cochlea
vain and noisy avian beast
in studios is where beauty is manufactured
“angel violins and devil trombones”
not perched upon wires
hidden amongst green leaves
more to us than a mating melody
it is art
if we be laid as a consequence of it
‘tis but a sideline trifle
not a genitalian goal
thou foul strutting dinosaurian remnant
leftover turkey dinner of a bygone epoch
still your beak
silence your warble
end this proud communication
bring me peace
I cannot bear another trivial peep
one more lustful provocation
dear me
for an extinct taxon
you have really made something of yourselves
more than will we I would guess
perhaps this is jealousy
in which case
it’s not you; it’s me
who’s a leftover
and it’s I for the oven again


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