Where is the divine justice
\nWith Creation as a whole
\nWhen placement was made in colder climes
\nFur bearing took a role
\nTo safeguard against trauma
\nAnd an insulation for
\nThe recipients true body
\nSo as to protect our core<\/p>\n
Clearly true devoutness
\nWas the honourable refrain
\nThe blasphemer the curser
\nThe sinner and the insane
\nNot taken into being
\nClearly someone erred
\nAnd the fur bearing animals
\nWere made the targets in one word<\/p>\n
Of fashion and of staying warm
\nThrough the illicitness of life
\nInfringing the creative laws
\nAnd perpetuating strife
\nAnd so all of those Angels
\nThrown into the colder place
\nThe fur tO be their protection
\nWould see abuse and such disgrace<\/p>\n
MIko was a wild fox his fur was snowy white
\nWith all his expectations
\nAnd His divine
\nBirthright<\/p>\n
To be a creative warrior
\nA predator of sorts
\nAble to withstand the wind
\nWith all his varied thoughts
\nHe knew his responsibility
\nThe coat he wore was warm
\nIt mattered not however cold it was
\nOr even a storm<\/p>\n
His wilderness was heaven
\nHis normality his eye
\nTill a trapper took his freedom
\nAway and he did lie
\nWaiting for his henchman
\nTo take his soul and run
\nHe was captured and put in a cage
\nClearly his day was done<\/p>\n
MIKO knew the consequences
\nOf being locked away
\nThe spiteful had took over
\nHe would be made to pay
\nAnd the price was high and awful
\nHe knew his death would be
\njust around the corner
\nAnd he would never again be free<\/p>\n
It happened he was fortunate
\nAn Earth angel came by
\nAnd rescued him and took him off
\nTo somewhere he could fly
\nNot literally he once again
\nBe free to do his thing
\nInteract with the persons dogs
\nAnd really try to bring<\/p>\n
Some semblance to his uncertainty
\nThat he had got a way
\nFrom what was certain to be his death
\nOn any given day
\nHe had heard the squeals of others
\nHe had felt their agony
\nHe knew the dreaded poker up the anus
\nWas to be<\/p>\n
So now he was again living not wild
\nBut still alive
\nShocked out of his senses
\nBut wanting to survive
\nSo playing with his Husky friend
\nAnd talking to the mice
\nThe birds that come around to chat
\nHis new life was nice<\/p>\n
And the human that he was living with
\nWas soft spoken and kind
\nShe clearly really loved him
\nWhich kind of blew his mind
\nHis pink nose and his blue eyes
\nWere a joyful sight to see
\nHe knew he was very handsome
\nAnd though not completely free<\/p>\n
Was at least looked after
\nFed and cleaned and felt
\nWhere he lived they loved him
\nSo good cards had been dealt
\nBut then one day the sky fell in
\nWhen some raider man did come
\nThrust him in an old jute sack
\nAnd used him like a drum<\/p>\n
Beat him against a wall I think
\nCrushing his bones to dust
\nBleeding inside this smelly sack
\nClearly he was just
\nIn a murderous battle
\nHe felt his life flow
\nOut of him inside that sack
\nAnd that he now couldn’t go<\/p>\n
Anywhere bar for the rainbow bridge
\nWhich now he could see
\nAlthough his eyes were full of blood
\nHis soul was flying free
\nHe left his blood stained body
\nTo take his final flight
\nAnd landed on the rainbow bridge
\nOn a day of blinding light<\/p>\n
Fur and the trade around it
\nIs made up of vulgarity
\nOf unseemly news and the undignified
\nAwkward and lubberly
\nWith a infamy abroad
\nLots of hollow people
\nWho kill for their reward<\/p>\n
Those always in the limelight
\nThe gossip and the gall
\nWearing cold clime victims
\nWho before them could walk tall
\nBut now were lost forever
\nSlaughtered out of hand
\nSo hags and fags could wear them
\nThough could never understand<\/p>\n
The cruelty the debasement
\nThe agony of thought
\nTheir wildness stolen forcibly
\nIn those vile traps had caught
\nInnocence and enlightenment
\nAnd forced it to be seen
\nStripped of all that wonder
\nTo become the new obscene<\/p>\n
The impertinence of the industry
\nSo offensive to us all
\nLacking true humility
\nWith our backs against the wall
\nWe cried out to our maker
\nWhy did he never see
\nThat humans cretins that he created
\nWould also want to be<\/p>\n
Wearing our fine skins of white
\nAnd possibly even more
\nAnd notwithstanding that regard
\nWe could all be sure
\nOur death would It be thought about
\nBy the wearers, so to say
\nWould we always be the victims
\nQuietly made to pay<\/p>\n
So I am at the rainbow bridge
\nWhere the butterflies do play
\nI chase them as I always did
\nAnd of course there is no way
\nI will ever catch them for they
\nAlways fly away
\nUp into the sunshine their gleaming
\nColours bright
\nNone of the souls up here have fur
\nFor we all exist in light<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Where is the divine justice With Creation as a whole When placement was made in colder climes Fur bearing took a role To safeguard against trauma And an insulation for The recipients true body So as to protect our core … Continue reading