Hypocrisy Sonnet

To a magpie, gorging upon naked table; 
and to a deerfly, speeding with greedy zoom; 

What fine feast of left-outs and day-olds 

has entreated your beating wings and imbued 

your maneuvers with shards and unstable 

thwarts at far fewer marks than our 

bleeding bards can consume? 

I cannot see which the wind may pull, 

but I can tell you I see what you do.
Magpie and Deerfly, you are both on my list 

of things to rebel, revolt and resist 

against, and again! you bite at my neck 

and you rape of my hand.
If this violence persists, I'll drop pen and grab sand.
I'll throw dirt-balls at you and your pestilent crew
and make off with the crumbs that you scammed.