A dead Elephant and 3 apparently happy women( and one incredibly sad poet)

When women sink
up to their eyes
in the blood of wild ones
it mystifies
the poet who
had always thought
the maternal instinct
could not be bought
how can a women act this way
to get inside their souls today
to fight off those who would’st
say
women have lost the depth they had
revealing instead something so bad
an insidious nature so underhand
a candour I don’t understand

an elephant dies
in a hail of steel
its great heart thumping
its for real
a resounding crash
as its great bulk falls
to the raucous cries
of these 3 young fools

a machete cuts off
the fallen’s trunk
are they drugged up
or are they bloody well drunk
on the blood of the vanquished
on that vile exchange
how sad it got within their range

and look at them
vultures demonic and dire
kissing the flesh
I let out my ire
I just can’t imagine
the feminine heart
as rabid as this
I’m bound to start

questioning why
these 3 should be
so very vile
such infamy
a grotesque image
they portray
hair styles lipstick
and decay

the elephant
was slaughtered there
by all of them
they didn’t care
they couldn’t feel
look at their faces
rich with zeal
monsters really
sirens they
drawing those hearts
from far away

on my knees I am
their faces, I
have before me
my mouth is dry
I question those
who would do such things
it tests my spirit
for it just brings
it out of me
3 women, why?
would they want
a great spirit, to die

their orgy
shared by all who see
they seem to have
the very worst intentions
a spitefulness
that really shouldn’t be
a viciousness a savagery
and outrageousness
pitiless in many ways
gloating and sadistic
is this realistic?
or just a passing phase

whatever that poor Elephant
shot down in its prime
it is lost forever
dead before its time
a massacre in the moment
it cannot be reversed
if they think about
what they have done
they will know that they
are cursed