Road kill night

Illogicalness false reasoning
Sophistry of sorts
Words like harvest instead of murdering
Tells you that their thoughts
Are contrary to reason
And contradictory
We are talking of life and death
And historicity

A road kill night where Kangaroo’s
Are offered to those who
Think its right to eat the coat of arms
The clueless few
Who hear the macro meat brigade
The corporatocracy
Who want the margin for themselves
And damn all else to be

Science and professors
Believe themselves to be
Wise a fact that i now doubt
Hearing such imagery
They argue in a circle
Equivocate and dodge
Varnish over established facts
Which in their sinew lodge

Voiceless I am with voiceless
Though I can speak, Kangaroo
Joeys stomped on shooters shooting
Many females who
Have joeys in their pouches
And pinkies in their too
And these dry old professors
They havent got a clue

Many miscalculations
Sloppy thinking they
Are eating kangaroo meat
Believing its the way
A total lack of vision
A fallibility
In essence unintelligence
Their false dawn actually

A bias for the meat trade
Blind sided i will say
Based on parochialism
And unbalanced In a way
Petty minded tunnel visioned
Opinionated they
Precondemning kangaroo’s
Its discriminate today.

3.7 animals are in the shooters eye
Clearly this is overkill
Why so many die
Dont talk to me of harvesting
Its murder all the way
Females joeys and pinkies
Murdered everyday

By shooters grogged on local beer
Driving through the night
Defiantly not all head shots
Picked out in the light
Females being butchered
In the dust and dirt abroad
Eviscerated badly by the bluntest of the
Sword

By warped and jaundiced shooters
Clannish cliquish sorts
Gung ho out for money
Thats all thats in their thoughts
The environment the balance
The female kangaroo
The joeys and the pinkies
They do not have a clue

Narrow minded red necks
Working the trade
Murdering so many
And in the dirt they are laid
The joeys gets its head stomped on
By a lousy boot
And the pinkies clearly had it
A little one inch root

The meat trade are unconscious
With an incapacity
Of feeling about life and death
And balance i can see
And feel their unintelligence
Brokered by the dosh
Crass ignorance and folly
With me it doesn’t wash

Unlocked chillers salmonella
E coli as well
This butchering is in the bush
At night its just like hell
Total unenlightenment
A sealed book i will say
Wet behind their earoles
In every single way

Most of them cant shoot straight
Unworldly and naive
Out of touch not in the loop
Nothing to believe
Behind the times and indifferent
Untutored let me say
We have to stop the killings
And make the meat trade pay

They are a bunch of air heads
Simpletons at heart
Its money for the sake of it
And murder by the cart
Nothing is authentic
Obtuseness is their thing
Drivelling babbling wandering geezers
And its nothing that they do bring

To the table of sanity