Are you drunk
with the power
that that gun
now gives you
you tugged at its trigger
and watched a soul fall
down on its haunches
bloodied and sobbing
head up
eyes blinking
heeding its call
from the great soul
that sits in the sky
contemplating
the birth of all babies
and the deaths of its sons
its daughters
its waters
its broken hind quarters
the steel of the bullet
the clap of the guns
high 5 bold hunters
sat on your hide seat
covered in camouflage
sicko’s supreme
why pick on solitary souls
in the forest
sign up for war somewhere
I see the gleam
of hatred that emanates
out of your eyeballs
why go and hurt just a young Moose,
the deer or the bear, or yes whatever
the chicken the Pheasant
the partridge, the goose
Rex Tyler is a Poet, Campaigner, former owner of an organic shop of 30 years, and Public Speaker living in Berkhamsted, UK.