Dumping grounds

For eight years at least
It’s been happening
Quietly I believe
The FAROE Island butchers
Hoping to deceive
Anybody really
Who they don’t want to know
How carcasses from the pilot whales
They murder
Grow and grow

underneath the Sea
In a secret crevice where
Skulls and ribs
Are dumped without a care
Without respect and honour
Of the ocean and the whales
Divers who saw them cried below
It’s one of the saddest tales

As far as the eye can see down there
A graveyard the unborn torn away
Clearly parts of Pregnant whales
Carnage so to say
Miracles and the Faroese
All they do is hunt
and drive and slaughter
The whole pod
Their constancy would stunt

The growth of mind and matter
Obdurate they be
It’s all about tradition
They live tenaciously
Like Vikings when it comes to it
Slaughtering the whales
Mothers children tiny babies
The unborn foetus pales

Into insignificance
Respect for infants NO
Every soul is game and will be killed
Part of the flow
The family tree wiped out of course
The agony the pain
The stress caused to the parents
Drives elders insane

But loyal they are
they will not leave
Heroes every one
from Leynar to Vestmanna
When the day is done
Crane loads are ejected
Some with blubber still
Scattered across the ocean floor
Like disrespectful swill

Local household waste
And generator parts
The ocean is their dustbin
They break all our hearts
And again this week after the grind
More eyes were on the scene
And pictures left on Facebook
Are really just obscene

Dumping carnage into
The ocean is a sin
A waste of life and body parts
Can you hear the din
Of lots of people crying
We are we are crying we
Have watched the murdering going on
And it doesn’t have to be

It’s not as if they are starving
50,000 there
Supermarkets packed with goods
Salmon farming where
Salmon farms exporting
The world their oyster here
But pilot whale pods have to die
And swim in total fear

To still be doing grindadrap
Killing on the sand
Knifing them and making each
Feel the killers hand
Stabbing them and slicing them
Beside their parents they
Are sentient they live emotions
But it has to be the way

Culture and tradition
That’s their straight up shout
You eat beef and chicken
So what’s it all About
You have all your slaughterhouses
We just use the beach
Why don’t you mind your own business
Go someone where else and preach

That is what they tell me
Poems anyway
Will carry on until The lord
Taketh me away

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