This world is defiled quite
when the wildlife
try all night
to exile light.

A bunch of pompous pawprints
mark cacophonous coffins
where differing dolphins boxed in
fell to a bomb with topspin lobbed in.

The waxy ghosts
make flaxseed toast
while black sheep boast
that they’re lacking most.

The hyenas just laugh
at the beleaguered giraffe
sticking his neck in the path
of a snake oil salesman’s trap.

Now the derelict spiders
are perilous fighters
but carnivorous biters
lit them with lighters.

The alabaster wall
makes ever-after small
and lesser actors tall
through the collapse of all.

Now Cerberus
returns to us
as we burn to dust
for serpent trust.

So the deadened world is dismantled
like someone stepped on an ant hill
with a deafened anvil in a stampede standstill
because killing animals is the jaded man’s will.