BEASTLY TALES

THE PLEASURE KILLER

Flourishing his hand, like a concert impresario at podium,
A lugubrious fellow, spitting out odium.
He pointed so very proudly, at his huge study wall,
Covered with trophies, the sort that appal!
Mounted heads of animals, majestic and noble.
A consequence of travelling, being most mobile.
Money to burn, and being bored, to boot!
He’d go trophy hunting, the disgusting brute!

Having no love, or respect, for God’s creation,
He’d set out to hunt in each appropriate nation.
And doing this happily so, for that consummate thrill.
Of bringing noble things to ruin. Kill, kill, kill,
What a depraved, warped, twisted mind.
To gain pleasure from killing all that they find!
Fit for destruction, they are, to be sure,
A back-firing gun, perhaps, the appropriate cure.

On his wall, moose, tiger, bear and other animals grand,
Gnu, antelope, buffalo, aardvark and eland.
Grotesque caricatures, of the real deal,
His own ugly head should be there! How would he feel?
But, wait, there Is a human head!
Mounted on walnut, you could see where it’d bled.
It’s eyes vacuously gaping, staring into space.
The trophy hunter had bagged him, after a chase.
As with all the animals that were there.
The lion, the musk ox, the grizzly bear,
The human trophy had been walking the woods
Minding his own business, in the most pleasant of moods.
When that murdering sod, lifting his gun,
Had shot him down dead, just for fun!
“Great Sport!” He loudly declared,
As he posed for a photo, as everyone stared.
“Spiffin Good show, like it a lot,”
“Always cheers me up, when there’s something I shot!”
It didn’t make him sick, or cause him to chunter,
But he had, indeed, shot another hunter!