A three year old Jaguar
Escaped we hear
On Saturday morning
From a zoo its unclear
How it got out
But for about an hour
It managed to attack
And kill with great power

Audobon Zoo up town
New Orleans
Before the zoo opened
Clearly full of beans
It did find its freedom
And attacked other souls
Alpaca’s an emu wild foxes
Their roles
Cut short we believe
For all have now died
It could have been worse
With people inside.

A “big lovable goofball”:
The zoo has described
This rather wild Jaguar
To me a strange gibe
Clearly his wildness
Underated maybe
Having killed other animals
So easily

They are adaptable
That we all know
Arboreal animals
Seen in the flow
When forests are flooded
They take to the trees
They are dangerous animals
And do with ease

Work intuitively
Clearly inspired
Its cruel to cage wild souls
Who do remain fired
Up with their instinct
And their impulse to be
Out on their own
Or up a tall tree

Zoo’s believe strongly in
Its illogicalness
For the need to walk free
Its a contradiction
In so many ways
And a pent up desire
That Really plays

Contrary to reason
For me its unsound
Its really poor judgement
Down on the ground
A business in wild life
It doesnt make sense
It depends on closed minds
And is unbendingly tense

For animals suffer
Their instinct to hunt
Is empirically
Part of their make up
It is what they are
And being fed lumps of flesh
Is in my mind too far

They are killers
Deriving much from the chase
They hunt and they stalk
With their prowess and grace
And because we have given them
They become in essence
Our commodity

Its where the profit is
And so what we do
We decide what they eat
All their life through
We are the commercial gods
So to say
Its to do with the balance sheet
More so each day

Now subjugation
Is the rule of law
They must depend on us
For evermore
Coerced and constrained
By the model we use
Its internment forever
Yes we do abuse

Every soul in these prisons
Locked up all day
To walk in a jungle
Which is just a display
A feature pehaps
But a limited space
Where they are then gawped at
By the human race

To escape for an hour
To hunt and to maim
To feel ones legs working
And ones heart aflame
With predatoriness
a given inside
The taste of fresh blood
And with no need to hide

Must have been a joy for that sad wild soul

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


HTML tags are not allowed.