Song of the Pilot Whales

Our family pods

are exceptional

a complete family tree

made up of the venerable ones

All respected admirably

we joyfully create our purpose

The old,  the young,  and we

educate each other

for our lifetime in the m sea

the annals of contentment

broken tragically

in the Faroe’s  where those

Scumbags slash and murder at will

old and  young and some with child

it be a bitter pill

Our song of kjoy becomes a sad lament

a silent dirge

a wailing of the unfortunates

a blubbering a purge

brimming with hysterics

and ululation too

doleful and lugubrious

honestly it’s true

whale sounds are communicative

but at murdering places, we

The  Faroes  and that awful place

in JAPAN known as Taiji

Where a constancy of slaughter

sorrow and bemoan

whine and whinge and whimper

Elegize  and groan

run the gauntlet daily

evilness and pain

anything humanely thought of

ends up with true disdain .