YULIN

Ten awful days
The Chinese call it festival
From the 21st of June
The Summer Solstice when
A solar eclipse is coming
A time of immense soul
Where hundreds of little dogs
Will be
Under CHINESE control
Many stolen from the streets
Impure thoughts are rude
A shamelessness so evident
A salaciousness so crude
These animals are innocent
Yet caged and ready to
Be boiled alive they will not survive
The greasy fetid strew
Served up with the lychees
The festival so called
Where viral parasitic plagues
Could suddenly be hauled

Impure the defiled creatures
Frightened as can be
The smell of comrades cooking
In what is iniquity
In total contrAvention
Of decency and care
Obliterating duty
And a great wave of despair

These poor souls
Pure and simple
Waiting to be killed
Smelling all the cooking liquor
As their blood is spilled
The agony of boiling juices
The dishonesty
What is a vile breakdown of law
And real improbity
The howl of those departed souls
An nobody on trial
A festival of participants
With scruples off the dial
No disciplinarian punishment
No days of judgement here
Just little dogs all slaughtered
And more and more each year.