The german trophy hunter

A quiet day in Zimbabwe
A being in its prime
Feeding on the bluest sky
And managing its time
Breathing in the scent of blossom
Scratching at a tree
Camouflaged and furtive
In a wave of mystery

The German he a hunter
A trophy was his hope
The most powerful of rifles
And a telescope
Eyeing up the target
Transfixed and crouching low
Aims and pulls the trigger
The great beast seems to know

A shriek of some resentment
A shuddering to see
And down he fell under the spell
Almost as a tree
Would crash down from the sky lights
And cause the dust to rise
This god like massive animal
Met with his demise

Zimbabwe boasts a majesty
Lying limp and hot
In fact a revelation
For where he had been shot
Assassinated cruelly
By this evil dark refrain
Embittered and so prejudiced
With everything to gain

The absurdity of ending
Such a chosen life
For the trophy he was hopeful of
And he would use his knife
To cut away the sacred tusks
With no respect at all
The spectacle of terror
Ascribed, to this fool

Psychopathy and skulduggery
Unsound and confused was he
Anything he chose to do
Really he could be
Anyone and anything
Nothing held him back
It was his arrogance that drove
Him, into the attack

As elephants go it was massive
The biggest soul around
It felt like a thousand drums beats
As he hit the ground
From caring thinking people
Who blatantly despise
Degenerates who kill wild life
And then just tell their lies

The bullet turned him sideways on
As it tore into his soul
His ruptured body bent and broken
His tusks hacked off the goal
Was clearly his for the taking
At the breaking of the day
This truly majestic pachyderm
Was already cast away

And now this German wants to
Send the trophy back to where
He no doubt wants it on his wall
So that he can share
The majesty of murder
The ugliness and pain
The hypocrisy of hunting
The enigma and the gain

The airlines are now plotting
The agencies are too
Following Cecils murder
The people good and true
Are up in arms about this
The trophy hunting clan
Who use their wealth
And personal power
And don’t want to see a ban

Its why they kill these animals
To take the parts away
The hideousness and disfigurement
Certainly puts pay
To the majesty of the moment
To the now unhandsome soul
That lies in the ground a rotting
In a dark and dreary hole

Whilst the tusks the so called trophy
Are bound for Europe where
They will gather dust for decades
And remind us of the despair
Of a vital force cut down in time
By the despairing lust of war
That took this beast to the rainbow bridge
Where he will be, for evermore

I hope to god they stop this shipment
And the trophy doesn’t go
And the German can then ponder
And as time passes grow
More and more frustrated
That his buddies will not say
The wildest beast he ever caught
Was shot in Zimbabwe

And that karma will catch up with him
And his limbs will atrophy
A stroke will see him suffer
And he will never be
Able to go walking let alone hunting
Anymore
Consigned to a bed in a nursing home
To re live the blood and gore
Of his own day as he suffers
As the cancer draws him down
As his breathing becomes laboured
And in his sputum he is drowned