Taiji a place for the children to swim and play

The cove of death

breathes constant breath

up till september time

when the children play

in the torture bay

in Taiji where dolphins climb


up in the air over the nets

under the tarps

they ply

trapped in their pods

watched by the gods

and there in the bay they die


honour there is no honour

veneration there is none here

anyone paying homage

is overawed and clear

given consideration

to those sad souls who will

die in the arms of the fishermen

with their gaffs and their rods of steel


neglectful off-handed and cavalier

desecrated so

here in the bay

where the children play

the cove that runs red I hear


one has to be, disillusioned

and totally unimpressed

its withering to observe it

recriminatory  and depressed

it really is unjustified

detracting from the whole

traducement on such a degree

to any parting soul


obstinacy unyielding

obduracy too


what are they going to do

soon the cove will be bunged up

with the bodies of those souls

the dolphins lost and dying

rammed into those holes


the steel rods of the fishermen

the ugly nasty sods

who think nothing of the innocent

who know nothing of their gods

they have forgotten all of them

but will feel the wrath of time

the catastrophe of who are  my friends

contained in this sweet rhyme


the thoughtlessness apparent

the inconsideration

the unthinking the incogitant

the irrational creation

someone isn’t thinking

someone doesn’t care

now the children romp and play

completely unaware


but by the 1st of September

when Taiji is forced

open they will see their foe

the seaside  then divorced

from any pleasurable activity

irrational that would be

empty headed unthinking

uninventive obviously


the childrens little bodies

soaked up in the blood

of little baby Dolphins

their bodies in the flood

of blood and sickly sinew

of bones even and pain

mindlessly they suffer

having, broke the chain

Japan is so unfeeling

so obviously she’s lost

totally empty headed

whats to be the cost

the mindlessness of playing

in what will be  a cove of blood

unimaginative behaviour

be wary of the flood


the evanescent peacefulness

how it will melt and fade

where little childrens voices were

where their bodies laid

soon the thrashing victims

will follow the parade

crying out in agony

victims  clearly desolately

conscious of the therapy

which is clearly extra sensory





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