400 Joey’s

400 Joeys met their maker
or did they?
their maker was creation
as we know
to make a little joey wasn’t easy
to smash its head in
well for some that blow
was probably orgasmic
in relation
to what they do
and how they bloody feel
it takes a special low life
to put an end to true life
400 joeys killed
that was for real

Canberra your hunters
make me vomit
I wouldn’t come to Oz now
not at all
you go bonkers with your fruit flies
and wood borers
but a Kangaroo
clearly there’s a school

that now exists across
your vast great nation
where men kill joeys
every flipping day
pull them from their sanctity
their dear dear mothers pouch
and crush them with their boot
you make them pay

for being one of life’s creative innocent
they haven’t shared an evil thought
but you
fiendishly go overboard and
stomp on them
watch their brains explode
you took ther view
of what amazing light
they brought to being
and snuffed it out
for that’s what hunters do
they take a soul whose beauty
was of a priceless quality
and in a fit of madness
smash it through

the dry bush earth
absorbs the babies spirit
the mother will be shot and skinned
a clue
another kangaroo’s life has been ended
and the hunter boasts
that he’s killed another two

whenever i think of this vile erosion
this thoughtless act of venom what I feel
is Australia was given special interest
but its people many of them do reveal
a vile and low regard for what is innocence
a broody mass devour the great resource
your kangaroo’s are children of the outback
and what you do now fills me with remorse