The Stalkers

In their houses of mirrors

their life long acceptance

of themselves as gods

to the partners they know

Narcissus reflects all their passion

and chaos

extended out from them

as an unholy glow

there are those who are stalkers

4×4 squawkers

they do little tracking

they live far away

in  a bloody great house

with a yard and a guard dog

they don’t need to kill

anything to survive

dressed to the nines

in their camouflage trousers

still got the folds in them

they are the signs

these people are sicko’s

they hunt at the weekend

got their powerful rifles

and shoot from afar

no feeling to speak of

except for their own selves

its just for the killing

where ever they are

they high 5 and shout

they are all patriotic

in love with themselves

its their freedom of choice

expecting so much from the women

around them

who suffer in silence

with not much of  a voice

I abhor these men

they are so disrespectful

to women to others

and to earthlings  who die

the animals don’t get a chance really

out there

the forest dwellers

lose out and why

we still have such perverts

with a license to kill them

the wild life should by now

be protected and sure

instead of becoming a rich arse’s plaything

left to bleed out in a copse wet with gore