The life of a JOEY

There is a wickedness out there
So sinful and wrong
And the innocent suffer
They have all along
It’s the egoist self seekers
Each Covetous creep
Who monopolise soul urge
And then fail to reap

The censure of guilt
For respect was away
With the birds it was missing
Blame didn’t Play
Into their psyche
So hollow so weak
A Hardness of heart
Hardly unique

A soul in distress
In the floods one could hear
Empathy calling
Good will and cheer
Responsiveness loud
In the heart of a man
Who leapt into the water
And then began

To enter the spirit
To fight and to win
To save a dear soul
Which then did begin
To rattle the consciousness
And cause some to
Attack the respect
And his love that was true

Having lost all his home
His possessions too
Swept away by the flood
In his heart he was true
A joey was drowning
The wildest of souls
Losing the battle
With life’s strict controls
And Ray Cole was on hand
He could hear its pleas
Over the sound of the water
His knees
shaking no doubt
But wanting to try
And rescue this creature
His love to apply

It happened the little ROO
Plucked from deaths door
A hero was born
But resentment was raw
Roo hunters angry
Wrathful with ire
Such indignation
Made them perspire

So much antipathy
And odious thought
Toward Ray for saving the beast
They were caught
Up in that maelstrom
Of collective gall
Unable to free themselves
Or overhaul

The displeasure they felt
That one of their fold
Might risk all he had
To try and take hold
Of a spirit possessed
By the flood and the foe
Should be saved and returned to the outback
To grow

His colleagues at work
Had sunk to a low
Disrespect of the wild
City life as we know
Can turn people crazy
Yet Ray clearly showed
His true inclination
And his inner child flowed

The joey was safe
He recovered to go
Back to his wild life
With so much to show
But Ray got a beating
From work mates and he
Was finally fired
In effect, he was free

Sadly too many
Shooters abound
They murder and maim
They just love the sound
Of the bullet leaving the rifle
And they
Framed in the spot light
The end of the day

For a mother thats feeding
A joey inside
Her pouch
Dare we vouch
For these bastards who hide
Earning a crust
From the meat trade who sell
The corpses for pet food
And all kinds of Hell

RAY COLE is a man
With a heart and soul
A genuine angel
Who took control
All life is sacred
No matter who
And for me he has risen
To a height good and true

So much resentment
From the lowly breed
All the hostility
Must not succeed
And persecution
For them in an instance
Is not a solution

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