Look at her as proud as punch
\ncamouflaged all the gear
\nthe butterfly of hunters
\nfeminine on fear
\nstaring through the sights
\na gentle eye and beating heart
\nand staring back an animal
\ntrying to impart
\nits energy its value
\nfor she the maiden who
\nhas the power to slaughter
\nwith one finger she can do
\nanything she wants
\ncan bring a bear to heel
\ncan cut down the great majestic Lion
\nor an Elephant will reel
\nfor she knows where to plant
\na bullet
\nthat will rip, into
\nthe savageness, the vital part
\nand exactly what it will do<\/p>\n
she feels exonerated for the malice
\nshe creates
\nfor she’s a TV presenter
\nsecuring vital dates
\ninspiring other psycopaths
\nto leave their homes and try
\nto go into the forest
\nand quietly softly lie
\nhidden in the undergrowth
\nready to unleash
\na bullet aimed to kill
\nwhatever that is now her niche<\/p>\n
and look at her she’s beautiful
\nshe thinks she is, and she
\nholds herself and feels inside
\nherself that she can be
\nable to draw anybody’s attention
\nanyway
\nshe has the power of television
\nand what else can one say<\/p>\n
her ego is a stumbling block
\nthe internet maybe
\nattracts the negative responses
\nfrom her bursts of insanity
\nperhaps intoxicated by the freedom
\nshe enjoyed
\nby the stupid men around her
\nshe kind of got all buoyed
\nup with their attention
\nshe felt she was the queen
\nand anything she did out in the forest
\nhowever obscene<\/p>\n
would be brushed aside in fact
\nbecause of who she was
\ndressed up in her camouflage
\nand really just because
\nshe had her sights on killing
\nand anyone who knew
\nthe power now in her fingertips
\nwould probably take the view<\/p>\n
she was someone not to argue with
\nto look at and agree
\nto feel some sick euphoria
\naround her tragically
\nthis might has gone to her head
\nand her passion for the cause
\nbrought her to the internet
\nwhere she didn’t even pause<\/p>\n
forgoing her femininity
\nand entering the realm
\nof masculine involvement
\nnow she was at the helm
\nshe drew respect from the hunters
\nand the ammo suppliers too
\nshe’d made it in her new found world
\nshe was au fait she could do<\/p>\n
anything she wanted
\nin that blinkered world where she
\noperated everyone bowed down to her
\nthe key
\nwas she felt so inflated
\nso special in their eyes
\na siren now commanding
\nany sort of prize<\/p>\n
but then she started posing
\nbehind the vanquished brood
\nthe majestic Lion
\nthe lofty Bear
\nand to some it appeared lewd
\na women, yes a mother
\nthe maternal feminine
\nwas engrossed in blood and gore and snot
\nas the vilest masculine<\/p>\n
I am a man and a vegan
\nand I love what women are
\nI love their innate tenderness
\nthe quality I share
\ntheir heartfelt love of nature
\nthe catalyst for life
\ntheir final equilibrium
\nescaping from the strife<\/p>\n
I love the honest caring
\ntheir nursing ways and I
\nam thankful for their energy
\nand that bond under the sky
\na women is the jewel that shines
\nbeyond the stormy night
\nand to feel her and to see her
\nreally in the filthy light<\/p>\n
proclaiming she is there
\nto kill, to slaughter and to maim
\nto take a man made rifle
\nand feel that it is game
\nto go out and exploit them
\nthe voiceless, who won’t cry
\nwho see the pretty face
\nand watch the pretty eye<\/p>\n
who stare into the furnace
\nwho suckle at the breast
\nwho feel the femininity
\nand know it is the best
\nand then are cut to ribbons
\nby the malice of a heart
\npolluted by the evil
\nthat the hunters did impart<\/p>\n
that turned the true angelic
\ninto a hellish low
\nthat broke into the gracefulness
\nand somehow did bestow
\nan evil and a weirdness
\nand a warped sense that to be
\nanything in this world
\nmasculinity<\/p>\n
is the key to an understanding
\nto an equalness how wrong
\ncan anyone be actually
\nfor really all along
\nthe firery beast is nothing
\nto the petals on a flower
\nto the delicate sway of a butterfly
\nthat dances on the hour<\/p>\n
the path into insanity
\nfrom ego through to where
\nthis sad soul now is hanging
\non a thread into despair
\nshe has let down her species
\nwith her avid claim to fame
\na mother who would slaughter
\nanother does in flame<\/p>\n
my heart. my soul, to such an extent
\nI cannot believe my eyes
\nthat such a women would do this
\nand, not realise
\nwhat she has just thrown away
\nthat pity and that love
\nand has rendered herself immoral
\nand unseeing of the dove <\/p>\n
in essence I have many tears
\nthat fill my eyes right now
\nyes I’m a man but the sweet plan
\nin me was to bow
\nbefore the goddess and proclaim
\nmy love for her for she
\nmaintained the form so pure and warm
\nwhich is what was mean’t to be<\/p>\n
and this slur and this deviant
\ndemonstrates and divides
\ndangerously devoted in darkness
\nshe derides
\nthose feminine around her
\nher species afterall
\nshe knocks them many knotches down
\nwhich drives me up the wall<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Look at her as proud as punch camouflaged all the gear the butterfly of hunters feminine on fear staring through the sights a gentle eye and beating heart and staring back an animal trying to impart its energy its value … Continue reading