The iconic one

Wild and feral
Children of the bush
Spectators who
Dodge commercial hunters
Licensed good and true
Harvesters their pockets full of tags
Their hearts on fire
In the Mulga country
Where the spirit world is dire

Shooters all approved of course
And ecologists them to
Who each Adopt this new idea
Of humane dispatch
A view
that sickens me
The pouch young joey’s
Bludgeoned in the dust
The mother gets the head shot
And the world feels her
disgust

And what is all this killing for
So farmers get to be
The experts calling them a plague
And the sheeps capacity
To produce wool sadly lessened
By the kangaroo we hear
Any excuse for more abuse
And the ramping up of fear

And what about the hides the skins
The market now in shoes
A precious soul must lose its life
What is there to lose
A truly iconic creature
Tangible and proud
Sacrificed for the beings
Known as human
A most distasteful crowd

And what about the flesh and bones
High in protein low in fat
Amino acids marketed by meat trade wallers
Where are they at?
Compassionless their total lack of empathy
And care
Prepared to sacrifice the miracle of life
Born there.

Its all about their profits
Not a prophet to be found
ExportIng meat to Europe
TO France and Germany bound
Countries full of animal flesh
With no need for Kangaroo
Its a baseless groundless market
Without foundation thats my view

440,000 babies trampled on the ground
Squealing in the final throes
In their own blood they are drowned
And this is seen a humane dispatch
By the ministry men of war
Hostile to the exclusiveness
What the miracle was for

Each life could not be replicated
Creation’s gift to all
Bludgeoned by the licensed hunters
Ready and on call
Heartless soulless automatons
Given a badge so they
Can forfeit their integrity
And make the mothers pay

They talk up green house gases
And the need for feral kills
At least 3.5 million
Its enough to give me chills
These are iconic animals
Featured on the livery
The national airline displays them
In the bush where they run free

Its bedlam for these kangaroo’s
There’s no order anymore
Shot out of existence
Reduced to blood and gore
The tip of the iceberg
The thin end of the wedge
A plague from so called farmers
For them to now allege

Is ominous and threatening
With full on enmity
Its spiteful and uncharitable
With severity
Bloodthirsty its brutality
Ill-wishing and ill-disposed
Scoundrels bloody hatchet men
Really its exposed

Instead of actual gratitude
And appreciativeness we see
Mercilessness and relentlessness
And inexorability
The uniqueness of spirit
The dutifulness of now
The intent of gruesome murder
Increasing by the hour

Where’s our total admiration?
Offering esteem
The humbleness of marsupials
Their devotion to their team
Why arn’t we reverential
To their plight admiring so
The sense of responsibility
Which in us all should grow

Instead we call them plagues
And slaughter joeys with our boots
Crush their tiny beating hearts
Into the dusty roots
Shoot their loving mothers
For the hide That draws the blues
who are happy to witness murder
And the skin used for our shoes

To chomp into their bloody steaks
Ready to pay the bill
So corporates can clean up
And fill the hotel till
To me what we are doing
Is injurious to all
Its corrupted by the wickednes
That really does appal

On my bended knee I say a prayer
For the joey’s and their mums
For the bankers and the traders
All doing their sums
For the so called licensed hunters
With their tags and boots who now
Are out there in the mulga country
Showing us all how.

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