Word birds

 let the books flap their wings

as they pass over head

they litter the ground

with their words

each fumbled font filled pile

soiling the world 

that was once still and empty

and silent

but these writers rear 

their word birds 

in those coops kept highly

mounted on top of their shoulders

housed in caged-up crowded brains

the horrid condition of these

wretched beasts brings tears to the eyes

and unrest to the night and sleep

with poets, reporters, and authors alike

guilty of cruelty to random thoughts

for how are they to care for so many

how are they to capture and hatch

all the ideas that linger in memory's shells 

these cooped up feathered fiends 

have to be let loose when 

their numbers grow too great

and when they take flight

the sight is magnificent

though some may not always fly for long

while still others can result

in a library blacking out the sun