Cub hunting

Cub hunting
Has to be excruciatingly cruel
Cubs in the earth
Vixen hunting
The Squirrel men
Blocked all the exits
No way back no way out
For mum and daddies little souls
Behold the yaps and barking
The ring of vile detest
The scrambling the panic
Every fucking test
Of time
Of faith
Of reason
The cubs can smell the hounds
They are going to make a run for it
What’s said and done
So Out of bounds

the hounds are being tutored
By the darkly arrogant slobs
In town maybe they are someone
But here just violent yobs
Cajoling and excited
They can only use their gobs
The cubs are torn to pieces.

Behold a mothers cry
Such anguish in her heart of hearts
The hunters
Can rely
on their vehemence
Their violent gait
Their filthy stinking breath
Even the women watch in a kind of awe
As the babies meet their death.

Fangs tear into skin and bone
Blood spurts high groan after groan
Canine spirits blustering through
The hunters violence so in view
Fathers possibly mothers yes
Human beings more or less
Not a vegan in this brood
Just the stench of the violent crude.