Norway’s shame

The circle of the spirit
And the magic of each day
Understanding Nature
It really is a way
Of transforming one’s existence
Of generating soul
Of creating true enlightenment
By being in control
The reed that gives the life force
It’s renewal and it’s way
Of embracing all that’s magick
In the embodiment of day
The deities are everywhere
Enchantment manifests
The power of all that’s wonderful
And constantly invests
In all that is around us
Within us and beyond
A familiar of decision
Where the “white dog” doth respond

Stalking in the wilderness
With bullets made of lead
The mindless sight integrity
When truthfully it’s dread
That forms their cloud of consciousness
Erupting from their crime
Of disingenuous bias
And artfulness of time
Encouraged to go hunting
In National Parks where they
And others feel convinced
They have the right to seek a way
Of cajoling and pursuing
Wild spirits of the field
Abandoning their virtues
Hopeful that will yield

A resource that can be tempered
A departure from the whole
A license to increase the stakes
And appease a raging soul
By giving men advantages
Over and above
And by easing down the panic
Of perhaps the startled Dove
But from an intervention
Comes an instrument to kill
Slicing through the ether
With a energy to spill
The life’s blood of angelic forces
Which can destroy the auric veil
Where sacrilege and suffering
Then paint a darkly tale

agitators and vandals
Are drawn into the fray
In ominous contention
Down wind they tend to stay
The magic of creation
Involves a guarantee
an assurance from a distance
And a sense of certainty
Endangerment and ambush
The telescopic view
What is a vile foreboding
That tragically holds true
And an evil becomes possible
A truly wicked thing
A startling revelation
Like a bird who feels its wing

Shattered in a moment
As true realisation comes
With an anguish and a splatter
When its heart no longer drums
It is falling it is spiralling
A lost downed soul it be
At this point all the magic
Lost to eternity
Reindeers splendid handsome beasts
Their burden ranges far
Across the icy revelations
Searching for the star
The lichen of the forest
The fuel of yesterday
Heat providing magic
To extend their real foray

But a Scottish hunter agency
Abandoned the divine
And brought into our being
By iniquitous design
A way to search out trophies
To pursue the ancient breed
To raise the hunting prowess
And as if by right succeed

So called hunting agencies
Giving hope to those
Who want to change the face of hunting
And whose wish is to pose
Threats to the wild wilderness
And the true Reindeers
To hunt them in their wilderness
To infiltrate their fears
As shots ring out the angels
Will fear the boasted breath
Hidden at a distance
Insuring that their death
It will be inevitable
Pangs of suffering will
Cloud their every moment
As their crimson blood they spill

As the trophy hunting rottenness
Who are inferiority
Defiance on a magnitude
A war dance a catastrophe
Insulting our great Mother
Whose beleaguered souls lie hidden
Bleeding out without a doubt
But alas we are not ridden
Of the anything but magical
The deranged and unsound minds
The maladjusted psychopathic
Aggressive underlines
The injurious the ageless the sacrilegious sods
The jibing and the scoffing
Contemptible of bods
The aiding and abetting
The shamefulness the villainy
The treacherous the mercenary
The inglorious depravity
Knavery,rascality roguery and spivvery
Turpitude and deviousness
And of course complicity.

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