In scorched savannah, elephants graze,
Acacias offer umbrella, welcome shade,
creviced skin shrugs off pestering flies,
Africa-shaped ears flap, wary ancient eyes.
Quietly closed, the doors of distant jeeps,
poachers pace patiently: slowly, slyly creep;
innocent animals meet murderous men:
butchered beasts get bludgeoned again.
Merciless machetes hack, blade-edges worn,
silent the blood witness, majestic tusks torn;
now limp, large mammal carcass late pleads;
sex and superstition feed erotic greed.
High priced libido, an expensive erection:
selfish hedonists strive sexual perfection,
Asians make ancient animals pay,
if elephants have angels, pungently they pray.
Loved large creatures roam and roar,
engineered not evolved, worth fighting for;
man and beast created, not really equal
species sinfully erased, there is no sequel…
image: You Can Buy My Heart and My Soul by Andres Botha andriesbotha.net