A quiet day in Zimbabwe
\nA being in its prime
\nFeeding on the bluest sky
\nAnd managing its time
\nBreathing in the scent of blossom
\nScratching at a tree
\nCamouflaged and furtive
\nIn a wave of mystery<\/p>\n
The German he a hunter
\nA trophy was his hope
\nThe most powerful of rifles
\nAnd a telescope
\nEyeing up the target
\nTransfixed and crouching low
\nAims and pulls the trigger
\nThe great beast seems to know<\/p>\n
A shriek of some resentment
\nA shuddering to see
\nAnd down he fell under the spell
\nAlmost as a tree
\nWould crash down from the sky lights
\nAnd cause the dust to rise
\nThis god like massive animal
\nMet with his demise<\/p>\n
Zimbabwe boasts a majesty
\nLying limp and hot
\nIn fact a revelation
\nFor where he had been shot
\nAssassinated cruelly
\nBy this evil dark refrain
\nEmbittered and so prejudiced
\nWith everything to gain<\/p>\n
The absurdity of ending
\nSuch a chosen life
\nFor the trophy he was hopeful of
\nAnd he would use his knife
\nTo cut away the sacred tusks
\nWith no respect at all
\nThe spectacle of terror
\nAscribed, to this fool<\/p>\n
Psychopathy and skulduggery
\nUnsound and confused was he
\nAnything he chose to do
\nReally he could be
\nAnyone and anything
\nNothing held him back
\nIt was his arrogance that drove
\nHim, into the attack<\/p>\n
As elephants go it was massive
\nThe biggest soul around
\nIt felt like a thousand drums beats
\nAs he hit the ground
\nFrom caring thinking people
\nWho blatantly despise
\nDegenerates who kill wild life
\nAnd then just tell their lies<\/p>\n
The bullet turned him sideways on
\nAs it tore into his soul
\nHis ruptured body bent and broken
\nHis tusks hacked off the goal
\nWas clearly his for the taking
\nAt the breaking of the day
\nThis truly majestic pachyderm
\nWas already cast away<\/p>\n
And now this German wants to
\nSend the trophy back to where
\nHe no doubt wants it on his wall
\nSo that he can share
\nThe majesty of murder
\nThe ugliness and pain
\nThe hypocrisy of hunting
\nThe enigma and the gain<\/p>\n
The airlines are now plotting
\nThe agencies are too
\nFollowing Cecils murder
\nThe people good and true
\nAre up in arms about this
\nThe trophy hunting clan
\nWho use their wealth
\nAnd personal power
\nAnd don’t want to see a ban<\/p>\n
Its why they kill these animals
\nTo take the parts away
\nThe hideousness and disfigurement
\nCertainly puts pay
\nTo the majesty of the moment
\nTo the now unhandsome soul
\nThat lies in the ground a rotting
\nIn a dark and dreary hole<\/p>\n
Whilst the tusks the so called trophy
\nAre bound for Europe where
\nThey will gather dust for decades
\nAnd remind us of the despair
\nOf a vital force cut down in time
\nBy the despairing lust of war
\nThat took this beast to the rainbow bridge
\nWhere he will be, for evermore<\/p>\n
I hope to god they stop this shipment
\nAnd the trophy doesn’t go
\nAnd the German can then ponder
\nAnd as time passes grow
\nMore and more frustrated
\nThat his buddies will not say
\nThe wildest beast he ever caught
\nWas shot in Zimbabwe<\/p>\n
And that karma will catch up with him
\nAnd his limbs will atrophy
\nA stroke will see him suffer
\nAnd he will never be
\nAble to go walking let alone hunting
\nAnymore
\nConsigned to a bed in a nursing home
\nTo re live the blood and gore
\nOf his own day as he suffers
\nAs the cancer draws him down
\nAs his breathing becomes laboured
\nAnd in his sputum he is drowned<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A quiet day in Zimbabwe A being in its prime Feeding on the bluest sky And managing its time Breathing in the scent of blossom Scratching at a tree Camouflaged and furtive In a wave of mystery The German he … Continue reading