Ken Livingstone has got religion, <br />a private war against the pigeon. <br />Although these wildfowl love to coo, <br />Trafalgar Square’s their Waterloo; <br />regarding them as rats with wings <br />he’s put on all of them a jinx. <br />While Nelson watches, one eye blind, <br />the birds that Kenneth has maligned <br />are banished, order of the Mayor, <br />though many think this is unfair. <br />The people aren’t allowed to feed <br />the creatures of the pigeon creed, <br />nor let them sit on British lions <br />as if they were all friends of Zion’s, <br />whom he regards with great revulsion, <br />deserving fully of expulsion. <br />Each one is an imperial pawn <br />he scoffs at with his social scorn. <br />This makes me want to hiss like Alger, <br />transported, trance-like, to Trafalgar. <br />Ken wages war against bird lime, <br />self-styled Napoleon of crime; <br />Macavity would be far better <br />as his accomplice and abettor. <br /> <br /> <br />6/19/06<br /><br />gershon hepner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pigeons-2/
