Saturday, May 18, 2024


April 13, 2010 by  
Filed under Poetry

The cockerel stood straight and tall,

Like a medieval knight,

Awaiting the signal to start the fight,

And hear the loud demented yell.

Ringed by faces distorted by lust,

All whistling ,screaming, placing bets.

The blood of his predecessor splashed on their vests,

But most of it congealing there in the dust.

His beautiful multi coloured plumage

Shone in the sun,

For he had been bred for show,

Not to satisfy man’s stygian ego.

Stolen from the pen of a devoted owner,

Then starved, teased, prepared to fight,

His abductor eager to witness the bloody sight,

Not caring if he lives, or lies dead, a loser.

What kind of man are these, who lust,

And scream to see the sight of blood,

Their bestial desires rushing in a flood.

Then they go home kiss their children,fondle their wife.

While the beautiful bird,blood spattered and torn,

Is thrown to the dogs. They too are doomed,

Their evil masters plan that they must fight.

Just as soon as a new venue is sworn.

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