Cacophony

 The drunkard sleeping under

The tree he thinks he owns

Because he sleeps there

Protests the birdsong

That wakes him early

I have heard him quarrel

Before with his past

In a particular order

The wife he left because

She wanted money all the time

The friend who owes him 

And refuses to pay back

The enemy who thrashed him

When he was unprepared

And has it coming soon;

This is something new

Complaining of the clamour

From the newborn crow chicks

Impatient for their first feeding;

"Can't you let a poor man sleep

When he has to drink to do that

Do you know what the prices are

Am I stealing this stuff off the street

Like you do for building your nest

If you keep up this racket every morning

I am going to come for you with a gun."

I too talk to the crows when alone

Like a child confiding to his toys.

The tippler pours himself a hangover fix

Targets the original sinner again

And finally goes back like Caliban to his dream.