Tom Higgins

Murdered For Me Teeth!

The killing has started again.
They shoot us, and then,
we trumpet our last breath
then we crumple into death.
The African men,
who killed us, then,
hack out our tusks,
leave us as husks
in the African dust.
But, kill us they must,
as for doing this deed,
they'll be able to feed,
their children, for a year,
thus diminishing their fear.
They were paid more
than they ever saw,
making them willing
to do the killing,
because Chinamen
carve our ivory
sell it to
the nouveau rich,
want everything which
money can buy.
I hear Mother Earth cry,
As gold inflates their vanity
but provides not the tiniest drop
of any decency or humanity,
to encourage an end to this insanity.
They just live the lie
that they can buy,
the elusive emotion, happiness,
derived from trinkets and rings
and other silly, sparkly things,
that they think they possess!

Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 12, 2012
Poem Edited: Saturday, April 14, 2012

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