Does anyone ever think of the BULL in the arena

Amusement for the audience
Those who come to see
An ungulate taken Apart
With what is infamy
Animal abuse
From those who went to school
And learned their craft
Of fighting
On vileness and with gall
They were bloodied
in the family
Others went before
Dressed it up as valiant
Where boys and girls could pour
Over all the tactics
Needed to fight the BULL
And increase entertainment
To really feel that pull

Learning to survive in the arena
Remaining fit and strong
70 schools surviving
Where students still belong
MostlY from Middle class families
Learning the tricks of the trade
It is a kind of brainwashing
By bull fighters who have displayed
Their art as they call it
Out in the arena
The whole cuadrilla and more
Learning to test and honour the bull
And to leave it flat dead on the floor
The roar of the crowd
And the demons engaged
The torture and goading
As the bull is enraged

Colourful exciting history
As bull after bull
Before them all dies
Running out from a dark place
Into the light
With the roar of the crowd
It’s prepared not to fight
It’s eyes and it’s horns and it’s legs
Doctored So
It’s balance it’s sight it’s hearing
The flow
Is cut off the poor soul frightened as hell
Enters the arena
Part of the big sell
The Whole caudrilla clad in fancy silk
Carrying weaponry proceed to milk
The crowd with a series of abusive turns
Stabbings and goading excitement it churns
The atmosphere charged All the blood guts and snot
This the charade That some Folk like a lot

The anger the price they Inevitably pay
To watch bull after bull Die in a way
That is bold and supreme
Slayed on the spot
In their face as they scream
Lot after lot
The bloodshed the carnage The combat the war
Put to the sword like never before
Decimate Scupper assassinate
Work on the misery, annihilate
Finish off fall on ones Bloody great sword
What you don’t want is anyone bored
Eating their ice creams children and all
It’s entertainment, and when they fall
Down their big eyes swollen with blood
They snort and they realise in a blood flood
Leaking all over weakening so
Only then do they realise they better go

Destroyed and demolished
Their energy
Fervour and relish
Courage and fizz
Initiative broken
It’s what it is
Spain has just spoken
Emphatic denials
That’s what we hear
It’s contravening
The challenge was clear
Call into question
What we have seen
Renounce and forswear
It just was obscene

And they were all taught how to do this
As well
A school for killers
Some cannot spell
But they stick in the knife Well
And wiggle it till
Bloods spurts out in a fine crimson stream
When they kill the sad beast
Who has Learned how to scream

Its all an illusion
The crowd are beguiled
It’s true treachery
Diddle and swizzle
It’s all sleight of hand
A sham a veneer from A murderous BAND
fabrication all round
Inventions and fiction
Yes pound after pound
A false set we see
A brave bull runs in
And is killed tragically

No one heard his voice
As he slumped on the ground
Then he was quiet
Not even one sound
So much sensitivity
And unconcern
Learning these skills
Teaching what to discern

Never a heartache
Or a nightmare
Anguish and angst
Was just everywhere
Gloom and dejection
Strain stress and tension
It all did exude

Harrowed and bleeding
So much dismay
Ill used and maltreated
At the end of the day
Downtrodden and victimised
Laden with woe
Just weeping buckets
As we all know
Odious hateful
Execrable and cursed
It’s not entertainment
There is nothing worse
Deplorable ghastly
It makes me sick
Wondering how these all Matador’s tick

Leave a Reply

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


HTML tags are not allowed.