Pigeoned out on Diwali

I’m grey and white; I live in a group,

On ledges and railings, I leave pieces of poop.

I’m the urban bird; I’m so very cool,

I eat what I want, and I drink from the pool.

I got all the strength; I got all the might,

I got no fears…except for them kites.

And the only other thing, which don’t make me so jolly,

It’s this time of year, during Diwali.

It’s not the poojas or the diyas, man,

I can deal with them, yes I can!

No it’s actually them evil ear attackers,

We call ‘em bombs, and you call ‘em crackers!

Whether it’s here at home, or out on the roads,

They’re so loud, my head explodes.

So when you folks start to burst them about,

Well, it’s natural that we freak out.

What starts with a BANG! And ends with a BOOM!

We’re sure these noises will lead to our doom.

So we do whatever we can,

To escape those wicked fireworks, man!

We fly away from the balconies thinking, ‘what the heck?’

And bury our heads deep into our neck.

Our behavior just gets stranger and stranger,

When we’re convinced we’re in mortal danger.

Then we’re no longer the cool flying dudes,

We’re scaredy cats, afraid to intrude,

In the joyous celebrations, the fiery weather,

We’d rather just sit here, and peck at our feathers.

BOOM! BANG! There's another one!
Later dude, I gotta run!