From the Sikhote Alin Mountain,
I gaze at my world coming to an end.
I feel the sharp spear
peirce my brother's heart.

Blood trickles from my sister's mouth and
I taste its unwanted metallic zest.
The strench of Amur Basin burning
fills my nostrils, telling me my time

is limited. I pace, awaiting my poachers,
killers stained with the last
essence of my family.
This destruction of my kind hurts my soul,

but I stand to fight in the name of Amur.
As my band of enemies approach,
I summon the inner spirit and my
roar blankets the mountain air.

I feel my ancestors with me and
charge with the force of a thousand
tigers to my certain death.
The final battle begins.

The posters said tomorrow
At eleven on the dot
The Mishkin Brothers Circus
Would be here ....on this spot

There would be no carnival or midway
Just one tent and three rings
And all of the excitement
That a good old circus brings

There would be elephants and lions
Trapeze artists overhead
Dancing dogs and ponies
And zebras painted red

Clowns of all description
Answering to just one man
In the center of the circle
Was Mishkin brother....Dan

He'd run the show for twenty years
Gone from town to town to town
In one day they would get set up
And in two, they'd tear it down

One day to show the locals
The circus still was an event
With magic, form the Barnum Days
All housed inside one tent

The sideshow barkers and their geeks
Were not with this fine group
Dan Mishkin had assembled
Only the finest circus troup

From Russia he had jugglers
Knife throwers, just the best
******* riders from Decatur
Along with all the rest

Fourteen trucks and trailers
Pulled into town the night before
Breaking ground once they arrived
Working right through until four

Just old time entertainment
No travelling gypsy band was this
It was the Mishkin Brothers Circus
It was something not to miss

The show was started promptly
At twelve o'clock, like the sign said
A parade of all the players
And the zebras painted red

Two shows and it was over
The whole routine began anew
The field was once more empty
Gone was the Mishkin rolling zoo

A year from now, we'd see the signs
And we'd all go to the tent
To see the Mishkin Brothers Circus
The best money ever spent

Of all the places
I have been
This is the strangest
That I've seen

It is called
The mixed up zoo
where the animals
Just will not do
Exactly what they're supposed to do
That's why it's called the mixed up zoo

Imagine lions in a tree
Not where they're supposed to be
A giraffe who is afraid of heigts
And bats who will not fly at night

I saw a goat who did not bleat
And then I saw a wool less sheep
A zebra who was blue and green
The strangest place I've ever been

I saw a duck who did not quack
I even met a talking yak
A turkey who could really fly
A hyena who would  only cry

Geese that croaked like giant frogs
And chickens who would bark like dogs
Elephants with ears so small
You would think they couldn't hear at all

I saw a horse who would not run
In all the day was really fun
Monkeys who could really sing
A snake who bounced just like a spring

It really was a crazy place
I laughed so much I hurt my face
If there is one thing you must do
Come and see the mixed up zoo

These streets knew feet in days gone by,
bustling sidewalks, crowded storefronts,
laughter, light and dancers leaking
out of smoke-filled bars.
Cars would wind through intersections,
blood cells between neighborhoods.
From The Corner came The Roar.

He remembers how the Autumn sounded
                       back in '84
when Alan Trammell brought The Series home,
the arcing shot off Gibson's bat,
the rolling wave of soaring voices.
                      Old English
                             "D"
              tattooed on the hearts
                        of a city
     who's been hurting since the 50's.

Bless You Boys.
Ya did it--
went and Sparked up Michigan
and lit a dimming town again
in Corktown's widening eyes.

In 20 years, though, losses pile up.
55 and starved for signs
of trends reversing, luck upending,
impending relief or just some kind of
                  something.

Sickening, cloying rapid decay
       as neighborhoods die.
These streets know crumbling cinderblock
walls and blistered paint coats don't
cover ribcages starting to show--
steel girder bones--and windows blown
out, like teeth lost from a well-spoken mouth,
allow the Lake Michigan wind to howl
                      out the tale--
            through oxidized bones--
       of just what it looks like
      when economic war hits home.

Heartbeats still find footing
in Motor City streets, beneath
         the Old English "D,"
but mind the scoreboard smart;
the Tigers lost a hundred games
                    in 2003.

She shot the tiger . . .
You know the one that wears the yellow eyes

She shot the tiger . . .
The one that's been hiding behind the smirks and lies

(It's okay , he'll be living in a poem
he's writing today . . .
It's not that good but he's hoping
that it will trend anyway)

Hey ! Hey ! Hey ! Ha Hey !

She caught the tiger . . .
Using all the black and white stripes
as his disguise . . .

She caught the tiger . . .
Thinking he could just blend right on in so he could hide

(What a Mistake!)

She shot the tiger . . .
Really blood is just paper thin

She shot the tiger . . .
You know it's not so funny now
when the hammer comes down upon the rim

And you were willing to let it go
on and on . . .No ! No ! No ! Oh No !

She shot the tiger . . .
And now he's bleeding
and the thought just occurred
that he might die !

She shot the tiger . . .
You know the one
that wears the yellow eyes

As fierce as they can be,

Tigers hunt to survive.

They only do,

What they have to do.

Did you know,

If pray was in sight,

The tiger wouldn't even attack,

Unless it was hungry for a snack.

Tigers aren't all bad.

Not at all really.

They just find their way,

Trying to live.

There's a food chain,

You can't avoid that fact.

They need to eat meat,

So what can they do,

If they didn't ****?

They'd die of course!

Would you be happy then?

Because humans hunt them too.

We don't need them for food.

We don't HAVE to **** them for medicine,

Why do most of them **** tigers?

Only for their skin.

Yes, it is beautiful,

But it's not ours to take.

You shouldn't **** tigers,

Just for their stripes.

They would only **** you,

If they needed food.

Food of which,

Some struggle to find.

It's sad this isn't the only reason,

That most of them die.

Those cruel people,

Set up traps all their habitat.

When trapped,

All is painful.

The more that they struggle,

The tighter it gets.

If they're not dead,

By the time those people come,

They will surely **** them,

And all because they want to be rich.

Tigers need saving.

They need our help now.

They're already endangered,

But they have no good enough reason,

To die right out.

We don't need tiger skin.

Can't anyone see that,

It only looks nice on that tiger?

But no, tigers get killed.

It's not their fault,

That people want their beautiful skin.

They may be running out of food,

Because they're running out of trees.

Without the trees,

They don't have much to hide in.

But the poachers don't help.

In fact the truth is,

They make everything unfairly worse.

So please help them.

Donate to charity.

We can save the tigers,

From the cruelty of today.

At the same time as this,

We could help save the trees.

Without the trees,

There is no jungle.

Without the jungle,

There's no home for tigers.