Spiral horn slam

How to be a murderer
Pay your money take your choice
How to put the end to life
For a soul without a voice
Africa the Cameroon
A place where herds of Eland are
Grass and leaves what that achieves
Is 15 to 20 years to be
Who you are in the scheme of things
And what you need to see

The Eland grows to be the second largest
Of the antelopes
A savannah and plain antelope
Of the genus Bovidae
It has a god to protect it
HATHOR a great guide of thought
And murdering scum
Who pay a sum
For the right
To thus abort
A trophy hunt
Known as a slam
6000 dollars
To try to cram
Other killings
In a short space
The stalk the hunt
Disgrace

Bloodshed butchery
Carnage
A pure soul
Taken out
15-25 years reduced
Each slam
Creates the doubt
Death being so final
The hunter
Pays and we
Witness a wild murdering
Phase of the truest infamy

A wild soul murdered
Before their time
Ungodly from the start
One second earlier
Full of joy
A trigger pulled
A busted heart
A slayer from 100 yards
A coward one has to say
She Dare not look into her victims eyes
She remained Too far away

Her dream
Another’s nightmare
Deprived of life
Oh dear
A bullet thrashed
Into my neck
Poleaxed me
And such fear
At once it overwhelmed me
As I was closing down
Losing sight of the savannah
And my leathery gown

Falling forward
Feeling the soft ground
At my head
Life was leaving rapidly
Soon I would be dead
In the realm of Hathor
And the ancestors
Seemingly
I would meet my mother
Again it seemed to me

Humanity depraved and sick
Abused her position, she
Pointed her rifle at my body
And killed me
Apparently, with intent
Of being joyousness
Such criminality
What is a heinous turn of events
My death her strategy

Cameroon the hot sun
The river I could see
The mountains and the blue sky
Where I loved to be
aggressively relieved I was
A tumultuous event
A massive jolt to life itself
And a life clearly mispent.

As for the trophy hunters
What would become of me
My skin of course would be leather
My flesh meat eaten I’d be
Filling up the stomachs of locals
No doubt who
Would be eager to start a chomping
Possibly even you

Consumption of a victim
Murdered before their time
Is loaded with toxic substances
That will effect the chyme
There is nothing satisfying
About consumption in this way
The package includes taxidermy
So where I end today

Who knows death is final
Now the huntress who is she
She is on social media
Crying passionately
Appearing frail and innocent
Tearing up she be
Unworthy of such feelings
Her amorality
Obvious to anyone
Her morals loose as hell
Unvirtuous and despairing
Trying hard to sell
Her guiltlessness and inoffensive
Blameless faultless way
When clearly for her iniquity
And transgression
She will pay

A high price every moment
She never will be free
Of the torment and the pain
I feel
For all eternity
Within herself that horn slam
Was murder and most foul
And she is going to suffer
Long and hard
And she will howl

Like a wounded wolf howls
In the night
Her dreams one big nightmare
Her psyche so unlocked and butchered
She will be aware
My spirit and my mothers spirit
And Hathor too will be
Injected in her lousy heart
For an eternity

A delinquent of the order
Complicit in the sin
Aiding and abetting
With the safari men whose sin
Is heard all over AFRICA
The taxidermy too
All the ghastly creepy people
Doing what they do

Sinners hardened criminals
Wastrels of the plains
Miscreants and blackguards
Creating lifelong pains
Villains brutes and savages
Cheats and liars they
All call themselves hunters
But at the back end of each day

There suffering is grotesque
Heartless violent fools
Who abandoned all their goodness
They broke all their own rules
Witless vile despisers
Rotten through and through
Degenerates who paid the price
Whose lives just spent askew

Let’s give thanks for life
and remember each of the victims fondly and forever