Bulls what chance have they in Spain

They have the nerve to call it

bloody fighting

their insensibility

is beyond the pale

they are in a global stupor

a numbness overtakes them

their nonchalance

and artlessness does fail

cold hearted just unconscious

unsmitten  apathetic

they use the darkest killing method to

be their entertainment

and for the whole family

a day out for the kids

its what they do

some sick exhilaration

the pathos of it all

its a sort of intoxication

its not a wake up call

no they dwell on torture

on the ugliness and rage

as the victim dies in agony

thats so far off the page

the suffering is toxic

the anguish it is there

the torture goes beyond the clouds

the grief is everywhere

the darkest tribulation

the hopelessness we feel

they laugh and eat their ice creams

all that does appeal

writhing, bleeding harrowed

tormented in great pain

pitiable and wretched

the swords go in again

heart broken really mortified

chagrined by what we see

but the  Spanish see some awful joy

and cultural rhapsody

here we have an innocent

undergoing what

can only be described as hell

each flinch and they cheer a lot

each squirm each smart

each tearful melody

each onerous tear

and the fucking crowd

including grandma

you can hear them roar from here

its completely disagreeable

an unsavoury display

of torture that is vile and sick

why has this soul to pay

invidious its mortifying

just to watch it  we

must give respect to innocence

and beg it be let free

Spain must see the irony

of its own bloody name

its not without coincidence

and little it can gain

from carrying on this evil

this pathetic shocking play

that rankles and embitters

so many now today