Intentions

Letters scatter in fear,

scramble in hodgepodge lines  as I crack

my lead whip against the thin,

flimsy white pulp. In formation,

they present their arms with a

still and silent salute

to the critical opposition,

ready themselves for the slaughter.

Wildly Cruel

Yet another day is dawning,

the sun chasing away the night.

The wilderness is bathed in light,

creatures large and small are yawning,

hunting to whet their appetite.

*

Lapping up the chilly water,

from rivers flowing to the sea.

Hiding amongst the tall pine trees

so as to avoid their slaughter.

Building warm dens so not to freeze.