The meat trade

It happens almost every night
Where mothers stop to feed
The outback is a lonely place
Where shooters oft succeed
convinced it’s entirely principled
and faithful to a tee
That they all Re honourable
With sense of constancy

Drive their trucks and switch on their lights
And gun the females down
Often harbouring baby joeys
Who withe their mothers drown
In blood and guts and bullets
Foul chicanery
And it’s all done for the Meat Trade
Pure minded naturally

One such glimpse unfortunately
A great mKe kangaroo
Standing over a female
And his baby a shocking view
Crying in his silence
His love dead on the earth
Sharing his displeasure
And clearly the worth

His family gunned down tragically
In the dead of night
Underneath a starry sky
His honest true delight
Left to bleed out sadly
A joey still alive
Rescued by the angels
Hopeful it might thrive

Little “Floyd“ they called it
Vicky Lloyd SmitH and Pam
The scene it was dramatic
An admirer yes I am
Of this horrible encounter
Of the meat tribe and their fix
Encouraging the shooters
To knock wild souls for six

Unworthy to be called human
Despised by people who
Have to witness all of this
It is what shooters do
They lack respect completely
Their paltriness we see
Despicable their littleness
Drenched in puerility.

Little “Floyd” he perished
Without his dear mama
He lost hours of nutrition
Underneath the star
Of humiliation
Knowing his mother died
Protecting him her devotion
Of course the world denied

Pregnant females with joeys
Are not fair game at all
The rules that every shooter receives
It is a reverent call
Do not fire on the females
Be high standing in your game
Respect life and give deference
To their claim to fame

But the shooters often drunk
Shoot with fuddled brains
Their fondness for the bottle
Under liquid strains
Often inebriated
By the rigours of the day
They have no shame
No none at all
And do not accept the blame

The wildlife is so precious
The wondrous valiant Roo’s
Born designed for outback life
Killing them is bad news
The meat trade is The killing trade
A bloody trade they be
A murder trade Explicit
It’s an obscenity

The little joey died
Poor dear
His eyes filled up with tears
Unrelenting slaughter
And unrelenting fears

About Rex Tyler

I love animals. I enjoy writing poetry and delivering speeches.I like to mentor people who need help in preparing speeches and evaluations.I enjoy travel although it is much harder for me these days.I so enjoyed the Andes Mountains and Volcanoes and the Quichua people who live and thrive there.I have lots of friends around the world.
This entry was posted in Abandonment, activism, Australia and the epic journeys, Bushtucker, Hunting and Poaching ( includes canned hunts), Kangaroos. Bookmark the permalink.

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