for the opulent few what can we do

the opulent few

enriched with the power

the flash of the cameras

hour upon hour

overpaid zombies

devoid of emotion

a numbness of thought

their only devotion

how they appear

to their fans on the street

to the paparazzo

and to the elite

they are the affectless

daring to show

excited by shocking us

where ere they go

as for the suffering

that they now wear

they dont have a clue

they are just unaware

the anguish of ignorance

the purgatory

the sadness and mournfulness

and adversity

its goes over ther heads

for they are VIP’s

the accursed remain in the darkness

the fleas

are on them

not on, what they now wear

be it fox, be it mink, be it dog

they dont care

they  expose themselves

and the media comes

parading their wealth

to their media chums

what of the wretched

the doomed and the lost

those wild ones who died

what has been the cost

the fur wearing starlets

have no concept they

may have been given the coat

just today

and its warm and its soft

and its thoroughly right

that so many were slaughtered

that this coat of blight

and sin is beholden

to so many souls

whose primary agony

clearly controls

they died for so little caged up

going mad

their feet badly crippled

their souls very sad

anal electrocution

drove them to a place

where they were then skinned

and were lost without trace

few witnessed their passing

how they spluttered and cried

hung up on a hook

their breath then denied

an old rusty knife cut their fur clean away

as they swung there in agony

they were made to pay

choking on their own blood

sweating away

being trod on and belted and

this every day

nothing was final

the torture went on

and on and on

till yea they were gone

thrown into a crusher

or tossed on a heap

left for the maggots

who rapidly creep

tedium throws them

into  a pit

they go silently mad

for that, yes is it

so much indifference

from people these days

who haven’t the sense

and just will not raise

their consciousness

they are dumbed down into hell

they wear their new anorak

thinking its swell

with its real dog fur collars

and cuffs which just bring

out the real  fashion

and this is their thing

some sad designer

creates  the design

soaked in the blood

of the creature divine

nothing now matters

they are strutting their stuff

the broken the bleeding

for them life was tough

death was, even tougher

they felt all that pain

and went to the summerlands

attached to a chain

the opulent care nothing

its what looks good

a mink on one’s arm

a fox really should

be on the back of a women

who could

show it off well

a STOLE OR A HOOD

in a soft lovely way

with more eyes on her

than some creature

they say

this is the fur industries

rabid sense

nonsensical creepy

such dark suspense

the hag with the bag

some might shag as a lag

but the rag on the flag

is untimely and dense