Even the cuckoo has to find its layer...

All fledgling poetry starts in the stoic hearts nest
Even the cuckoo has to find its layer...
Somewhere near to ostracize the rest:
In order to “Carpe diem” and be the Purveyor...
Over all he has cruelly dispossessed:
But often; like the magpie, he’s an empty naysayer.
That honestly nobody wants to ingest...