Animals Feel

Animals feel…

oh you didn’t know that!

but how can you not know that

when your dog barks and a duck quacks

when they probably got some things to ask?

You’ve probably never thought of that

while overloading your donkey’s backs

with bags but if I may ask…

hasn’t it ever occurred to you that a donkey that brays

that’s a donkey that prays for your mercy up the hill

with a back that’s filled?


They shed tears as well.

Perhaps enough to fill your well

whenever they feel like hell

but this, you can never tell

because you don’t even pay attention to your pet’s eyes.

And before you even notice it,

the tears have ceased to exist

and the only trace of your pet’s pain is sleepy seeds

that you may never bother to handkerchief off of your cat’s eyes.

Are we that full of animosity towards animals peeps?

peep this; drop the wild in animals

and just call them animals

because we’re wilder than those

because, it’s gross when we put ourselves to the task

of robbing elephants off their tusks.


Skinning cheetahs for carpets,

masks, slacks, sacks and such, it sucks!

They too have families for Pete’s sake

it’s a big mistake to take a pig’s stake.


And this piece cuts across poachers

and animal torturers

because both of us know that if we didn’t fell these trees,

we’d probably be having dinosaurs in our midst.

A Mammoth can’t fit in a book’s page

nor a TV screen but it could’ve had the space it deserves

if our environment we conserved.

Man my great grand kids deserve to have sight of  a real giraffe

not on TV, but on a game reserve.

Unfortunately, extinction is all we serve.

Ironic ain’t it?

That we fell trees that animals feed on,

to curve images of the same animals,

and process paper on which to paint images of the same.

Mere images, devoid of reality!

It’s a catch twenty two when both flora and fauna fade to extinction.


Animals feel, and I feel their pain.

Matter of fact, I feel much love for animals than humans.

And if I was president, king or something…

y’all would literally watch your steps,

’cause we’ve got ants and termites down there.

Ironic, but I believe we should’t steer clear the elephant in the room.


Out the Dirt I Came

See deep down for all I mean good.

But I’m not the type to divulge what’s cooking,

all that matters to me is that you’ll eventually nod approval to my food.

You can bet that I despise blowers of own horns.

The type that doesn’t hood up in rain, to merely flaunt a new hairdo.

The same type to grant then rant I loathe.

The type to tap then yap,

on your face clap, behind your back stab,

kiss and tell,

that type, should dwell in hell.


But instead it’s I who dwells in hell,

for being able to tell; in both senses of “tell”,

the self-aggrandizement that flips human tails to heads

and heads as tails instead.

But I only got one question for you Mrs Kind,

If the world wasn’t watching in readiness to judge,

would you still be “Mrs Kind”?

Ignorance indeed is bliss because out the dirt I came in search for bliss,

and since ignorance is synonymous with bliss,

then out the dirt I go back blissfully, devoid of bliss.