Of Whippoorwills and the Truth

[tectak]

Where I live in Alabama; a Southern state in the USA, we have a night bird called a whippoorwill. He is named after the song he sings over and over and over never missing a beat. Last night I sat on my back porch for a couple of hours listening to one, he never slowed down for a second the whole time.
I wrote this for my Mom's 91st birthday party coming up this Saturday. If it needs obvious repairs please feel free to suggest.

Of Whippoorwills and the Truth

I have sat on the porch on
a warm Southern night?Are we going to have punctuation issues? What on earth are these question marks doing? Is it misplaced upspeak syndrome? You must gain immediate credibility in your work. You have bombed in the first few lines. If you say these are typos I will say you should have corrected them before posting.
listened to the Whippoorwill tell me
who he is, Weak. You just could not think of anything to say. This whippoorwill is not engaging me
over and over and over? AAAArRGGHH???
I could feel that melancholy pull from
those simple memories of my youth? But of a leap of allusion. How did we get here. Hello, I am a Whippoorwill.Hello, I am a Whippoorwill.....perhaps you should have intimated by deeper connect just why the call of the bird is important to you. eg. Maybe the insistence in the certainty of the bird's identity call was at a time in your life when you were unsure of your own identity. It is the weakness in the first instance that brings out the weakness in the second. I just know this will become a struggle between clarity and early mist
The recollections of my rebellious past
reminding me of the time my Mama
spent hoping and praying that
I would one day find that
elusive buried treasure of contentment. See? The poor bloody whippoorwill has been given the the boot. You're off on a carreering cliche. What was that all about? I am now no longer surprised by the cluster of question marks.
All the times my dad tried
to show me the way and I
stubbornly shrugged my shoulders and walked away. You and everybody else.
Now I struggle to look myself in the eye because
I hear the Truth much more clear today, clearly
as it imitates the Whippoorwill;
I Told You So! I Told You So! I Told You So! This is much better BUT would have worked to the poems betterment if the opener had been stronger...as mentioned earlier
Oh the bitter sweet memories of those Deadfully over-dramatic cliche. You can de better
warm Southern nights, as the Whippoorwill continues
to remind me who he is,
over and over and over. This is so close to working I am exasperated by your brinkmanship.
Just as the Truth continues to remind me,
I have more than I deserve
over and over and over. Preciptous ending and unclear. Do you have more than you deserve over and over...or...does the T(?)ruth remind you over and over?

Hello,
Execution fail...but oh so close. A good idea but not a great idea. I can feel the struggle in this as it is classical commitment verse where you are so excited by your coming end you neglect everything else. The opener is where the crack starts.That bloody whippoorwill MUST say something more significant than "I'm me" or your central metaphor will not evolve.
Having said all of that, I am guilty as I charged you, because the whole thing needs smoothing out; I got hooked on where it was going and forgit where it was
Best,
edit,
tectak
Isn't Whip-poor-will normally hyphenated? I ask because I do not know.