I am a nasty hunter’s gun

I’ve blown some prey to bits

morality is not my thing – I

gather tusks and flit. Rangers

they can’t find me here, I hide

behind a bush, and now I press

a trigger for some elephantine

tusks. I don’t care for morality, it

isn’t quite my thing, and mankind

killed in ancient times, and slew

by using slings. Now monarchs of a

Bundu, writhe, converting into dust.

But I don’t care to carry guilt, I kill

not out of lust, but to feed a growing

family in a Third world wilderness.




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keith jeffries

Wed 25th Mar 2020 23:44


a poem with a profound message and one for us all to think about.

Thank you for this

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