Through the carnivore eye, the clenched jaw
The brutal canines, there is a strain of predator
And here you find a man who was supposed to nurture
Like a wolf, become the lion and then the hyena
Lions are for the chase of preys, gazelles, antelopes, elands
And even ungulates such as zebras that play
On the parklands. And hyenas prey on half-dead
Carcasses that are rotting to their own stench
Carving upon the flesh left on bone.
And a predator, is a diabolically slanted creature,
Wearing masks or mane, that only come off when caught red handed
He pries the parklands, for innocent prey
Like the pigtails and mohawks that climb little railings
Of a mat slide or swinging like Sweet Chariot
On a swing. Here you have an interface, a food chain
When a little body becomes shattered to the claw marks
Of wild animals, obsessively compulsive on their
Food for the diner.
And the footprints of candy men, are the legacies
That drift from generation to generation.
The batons that are gifted from shattered
To the shatter, in relays run by the battered bodies.
The apocalypse of when innocence is sold
To the lowest bidder, in an auction of flesh
And they say, Hansel was a little boy
Who didn’t have a bone to poke out of his cage
Instead he poked out a smile, trusting
A large hand that took him home
And home is where the heart shatters, like
A little rubber ducky rolled over by a road roller
And that noise he makes as he is crushed
Will haunt him forever.
And reality will fall like a hailstorm. The child will be
Just as animalistic as the man in the park
Predator who looks through the eye of a periscope
To hunt penguins on ice-shelves
And legacies do not fade or dismantle
They become gametes of inheritance
And that little boy will grow up to be
The candy man, searching for a little confectionary
In a tiny body. He will play his flute music
Until children come out from playgrounds in Hamlin
And that hold of the shaman, will become
A little voice inside, crying of its primeval need.
Love was supposed to be a discovery, a treasure
And not a carcass smelling of alcohol
It’s tragic that a rubber ducky who was only meant to sing
Could only squeal.