The Elephant is big and strong
It’s history runs deep and long
But lots of Elephant’s are starting to die
These friendly creatures and I’ll tell you why,
They’re being killed by humans all around
Tusks being sawn off is a harrowing sound
Just for those tusks, they destroy the whole thing
For the sake of an ornament, chess piece or ring
So although you can’t hear it
The elephant cries
Don’t buy the ivory
Because one of us dies.
Once a Christmas
The sun was blood red looked like a big wound
on the flank of an elephant shot by poachers.
Dripped blood on white, wholly cloud which slowly
turns red as the bandage of a fatally shot soldier
who slowly dies of his wounds?
His eyes turned into a mirror of the cold sky.
In the air is torn into puffs of powder an ambulance
comes to an abrupt halt, a man on the dirty floor
surrounded by presents for his family, his eyes
reflects the absurdity of a Yule decorated supermarket.
His wife will get a voucher.
As I drive home, a bag of night opens and strews its
soothing darkness over the land, but nearby
an anguished elephant has its tusks sawn off by a dentist.
The old cathedral sits aloof
With toothy tower and absent roof.
Its nave has puddles brimmed by rain,
And silent walls all cracked with pain.
An open window spans one end,
And sawn off columns to earth descend.
Its bells for Reconciliation ring,
For Peace, not Hate that War doth bring.
Brave they are who sit and stare,
And contemplate the lack of care,
For gentle people forced to fight
And what they lost to save what’s right.
Fought to right those awful wrongs,
And paid the price with moonlight’s bombs.
Its bells for Reconciliation ring,
For Peace, not Hate that War doth bring.
‘Coventried’, goes the name,
When people died from air raid flame.
It marked a turn up of the wick,
To long and bloody, not short and quick.
Rebuilt cities tell the tale
Across the globe, of war’s travail.
I’ve rung those bells, their voices rail
‘Let not War, nor Hate, but Peace prevail.’
©Keith Murphy
A fistful of a metronome is an organic matter in a metro dome. Fish not a pirate ship and swim swim swim. Great isn't it. Marvel at the many passing floating cakes that arrive. And mirror not a choice of words fir remarkable is never found in a plastic case. It is quite unnatural you see. And unnatural means not characteristic. So upon playing charades with rain drops be aware the shape they create upon landing. Mission beams from above. Callously charming chequered chins. And it is not to be said that a yawning yacht equals tiredness. It is the laundry from a vested belt that breeds the spawn. So suit on a sawn off **** gun attends a hockey game and the pistol in a pink top scores. Underneath the ironing board. Sails snails and pails. Squalid yet atmospheric. And indifference is neither a sign of acceptance nor thought. Ho ho ho to all that. Ran the hahaha out of range earlier. Dare to dance with the signal box then? ***,, correspondences Z
Cindy was really a man
You could tell by the size of her hands
So one day in Bournemouth
She had them both sawn off
But now she can't shave her beard
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