The grind the evils of the Faroes

 

There is nothing fair

about the Faroe’s

the islands of the damned

violence it breeds violence there

inhumanity slammed

 

a turmoil in the making

severity at the helm

barbarians and butchers

that clearly overwhelm

 

eruptive their behaviour

a grind for the mindless ones

on their evil rampage

as mothers watch their sons

 

carry on the carnage

literally wading amok

vile and ignorant goings on

a bloody inhuman ruck

 

the ocean turns to crimson

with the guts spilled and the blood

the sinew torn in strips,  it rips

the heart out and the flood

 

 

of tears from all of animal rights

and warriors everywhere who

feel the grind for it blows our mind

what these islanders can do

 

Neptune and Varuna are

out there watching they

are sick and tired of islanders

caught up in the spray

 

turning salty blueness

into a bloody state

the killing of the innocent

at an alarming rate

 

pulled ashore and torn apart

knifed and cut until

their bodies bleed out

painfully

imagine it as they spill

 

their guts their precious organs

just butchered on the beach

culture food the evil

its what their fathers teach

 

the youth, my goddess really

the slaughter makes me sick

the purge is vile and violent

we massacre them and lick

 

our hands

the salt may choke us

as hearts and minds can see

the annihilation going on

in the confines of the sea

 

babies even cut about

families lost for sure

all we see is blood and guts

their flesh turned into gore

 

and what are the islanders feeling?

the love of animals who

haven’t done them any harm

a factor that is true

 

wild souls bent on

living in the ocean

why do we

feel the need to slaughter them

into eternity

 

their bodies racked with toxins

mercury and lead

cadmium and radiation

PCBs have led

many now to question

the sanity of man

who dumps his shit

into the sea

and eats it

and I’m no fan

 

of islanders who do this

their wages are of war

they kill the innocent family members

and do it by the score

 

look inside their miserable minds

milk them of their breath

they demonstrate a harshness

so pitiful unto death

 

in amongst the action

the torrid cries they hear

as babies die with their mothers

in obvious abject fear

and still they cut and still they  thrust

at them savagely  all day

hear the shrieks of agony

and kill them anyway

 

 

 

 

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*

HTML tags are not allowed.