A safari camp in South Africa
\nluxury all round
\na delicious lunch a shooting range
\ntattoo’s and guns
\nabound<\/p>\n
the matriarchal squalor
\nand Patriarchal sin
\nIts the Lioness they are gunning for
\nit gets under my skin<\/p>\n
its the females its the queens
\nthe desert sands the soul of time
\nhunters have been imported
\nto make that awful climb<\/p>\n
from reality to what I can describe
\nto you today
\nas an evil in their integrity
\nand they now will have to pay<\/p>\n
for the curse they have spread far and wide
\ntwo souls they have gunned down
\nwho were in their freedom
\nand in their blood did drown<\/p>\n
they had come to find some victims
\nwith their pockets full of gold
\nwith their mindfulness lost to the world
\nand their borrowed guns to hold<\/p>\n
hunters from a far off place
\nfrom concrete cities where
\nthere are no more wild angels
\nrunning anywhere<\/p>\n
the machinery of patriarchy
\nspreads across their way
\nand the feminine is suffering
\nfrom the torrents of decay<\/p>\n
they talk of love immeasurable
\nfrom their hearts that once did beat
\nthe emotion of the vanquished
\nthe uncharitable deceit<\/p>\n
their names Peter and Tony
\ntheir wish of course to kill
\nthe malignancy within them
\nmore female blood to spill<\/p>\n
it is, victimisation
\nby rancorous design
\nHunting with all its devilry
\nwith lives now on the line<\/p>\n
all the treachery imaginable
\nto get one’s own back they
\nhad travelled from their cities
\nto bring their vile display<\/p>\n
into the Kalahari
\nWhere Africa could feel
\nthe wrath of something sinister
\nthe great financial deal<\/p>\n
could feel the feet of monsters
\ncould smell their sweat as they
\npursued great souls of innocence
\non this chosen day<\/p>\n
the night before they had
\ndrowned their souls
\nin the Chardonnay each glass
\ncooler than the one before
\nand had realised each arse<\/p>\n
present around the table
\neating the flesh and blood
\nof other souls who had perished
\nin the eternal flood<\/p>\n
of anger and resentment
\nwho had slept it off to wake
\nup this morning ready
\nto bag themselves more cake<\/p>\n
to go out and find females
\nthe Lionesses who would
\nhave been buddies to the great Male Lions
\nand how Nature said they should<\/p>\n
this would have been true Nature<\/p>\n
this would have been their true life
\nbut for the raw transaction
\nbloodied up with strife<\/p>\n
these beefcakes with their sleeves of ink
\nand their eyes that miss so much
\nand their hearts so solidly fattened
\nin essence out of touch<\/p>\n
now on the truck and ready
\nfor the bumpy road ahead
\nthey were riding with the devil
\nhe was just ahead<\/p>\n
taking them to hell and back
\nbut they never would escape
\nhis clutches never ever
\nafter this dreadful rape<\/p>\n
they all were clad in grey clothes
\nthey identified some spore
\nthe animals were up ahead
\nliving in their raw<\/p>\n
this was where creation had placed
\nthem it was where
\nman would come to take them
\nbut they knew, that he was there<\/p>\n
they knew of his brutality
\nhis spiteful attitude
\nthe sun shone from the heavens
\ndown on this ugly brood<\/p>\n
Peter was the first up
\ninsensitive was he
\nunaware of the dawn a breaking
\nand the smell of life so free<\/p>\n
he saw her she was lithe and strong
\nimmense in every way
\na creature of true fortune
\nand he would make her pay<\/p>\n
no doubt someone’s sweetheart
\nsomeones pride and joy
\nbut he was going to slay her
\ntoday he was her boy<\/p>\n
she resonated freedom
\nshe shared the morning air
\nthe sun would be her witness
\nwould share in her despair<\/p>\n
she could smell his sordidness
\nand hear his frantic breath
\nshe knew the guns were after her
\na sweet glimmer of death<\/p>\n
her nobleness a virtue
\nher passive nature spent
\nshe took a tree for refuge
\nand up it yea she went<\/p>\n
but Peter he was on her
\nhis patriarchal glow
\nburning and all could feel it
\nhe was now on show<\/p>\n
Bang! the steel ripped into her
\nBang! another too
\nit delved into her spirit
\nand life for her was through<\/p>\n
a lost soul in her own land
\nthe hoi poloi were here
\ntheir vulgar ways were evident
\ntheir countenance of fear<\/p>\n
slumped back she fell and that was it
\na female lost and gone
\na precious soul so in control
\nshe just could not go on<\/p>\n
the shabby squalid hunterman
\nwith his shooting sticks of fire
\nhad raped her to submission
\nher end was wholly dire<\/p>\n
the disgust one feels to witness
\nsuch a dark event today
\nthe prejudice and loathing
\nthe ultimate decay<\/p>\n
the unsavoury suggestions
\nthe intolerable design
\nto kiss a slaughtered victim
\non the lips and to malign<\/p>\n
the feline race so forcefully
\nwatching as I do
\nsoaking up the cowardice
\nthat really just runs through<\/p>\n
the so called bloody victor
\nthe deserter of all time
\nthe craven spirited sissy
\nwho imagined he did climb<\/p>\n
out of concrete city
\ninto the wilderness
\nthe Kalahari desert
\na paradise no less<\/p>\n
and now of course it was Tony’s turn
\nand another soul ahead
\nwho had just lost a sister
\nan undauntedness that led<\/p>\n
them closer to her being
\nher gameness and her pride
\nto run their gauntlet at a pace
\nand not to be denied<\/p>\n
crouching in a thicket
\nof thorns she waited, she
\nbreathless from the vile ordeal
\nof her sister up that tree<\/p>\n
and now her in this thicket
\nwhat was she going to do
\nif only there were males around
\nbut she knew very few<\/p>\n
were around so the inevitable
\nwas this day was her last
\nthere were no knights in shining armour
\nher die in fact was cast<\/p>\n
shots she heard around her
\nthey were trying to drive her free
\nso they could come and murder her
\nit was patriarchy<\/p>\n
that inherent vice within them
\nher audaciousness she used
\nslunk down on the thorniest edge
\nready to be abused<\/p>\n
she knew their sabres rattled
\ntheir shivers she could feel
\nBang Bang Bang Bang Bang that was it
\nnothing to reveal<\/p>\n
moments of such agony
\njust moments that was all
\nshe would never see a sunrise
\nagain or hear the call<\/p>\n
excuses body juices
\nwhy five shots and high fives
\nthe men clan patting each others backs
\njust because they can<\/p>\n
proudly now displaying
\ntheir banter and their chaff
\nwith all that male derision
\nwe heard them try to laugh<\/p>\n
two females lost the battle
\nthey were victims of deceit
\nslaves from a sick harem
\nwhere the oligarchy cheat<\/p>\n
everyone who comes along
\nand parts with ill gotten gains
\nfeels karma and the gods above
\nhave them all in chains<\/p>\n
for hunters are a dying breed
\nan anathema some say
\nwalking cancers, terminals
\nwho try to make us pay<\/p>\n
a price for their committal
\ntheir comfortless despair
\ntheir hudibrastic manner
\nwhich will always now be there<\/p>\n
their wives perhaps their lovers
\nwill smell the blood we lost
\nthey will be aware of its unguarded state
\nthey have no idea what cost<\/p>\n
it will be for they will never
\nengage in love again
\nthis is the promise that I give
\nto the hunter man insane<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A safari camp in South Africa luxury all round a delicious lunch a shooting range tattoo’s and guns abound the matriarchal squalor and Patriarchal sin Its the Lioness they are gunning for it gets under my skin its the females … Continue reading