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Wilderness Game

From,
A voice loud and shrill,
The wailing of a siren,
Voices bemoaning, intricately woven,
The muted voices of slaughtered lambs,
Of their blood stains humanity.

What,
Prevails Humanity?
A mere dictum of the English Language?
We a generation weaned in violence,
Compassion an alien word,

If,
Perhaps as they say "Ignorance is bliss",
Blissful a life tormented by wretched souls?
Lost souls of murder, rape and pillage.
Their crying from the valley of fear,
That death seems a kindly saviour,
A blissful end to an ignominy?

To
A fortunate few who live,
Encamped within gilded splendour,
Shielded from the horrors of bestiality,
Where man became a pawn of Evil.

Hence
We lived blissful in apathy,
Enshrined within a world of fantasy,
Hopping through malls, cinemas and cafes,
Lounging and betraying the languid mind,
Of neurons with dimming impulses,
A 'flapper' lifestyle much in vogue.

But,
One stands up high,
Protesting the inimical state of existence,
The exigency needed,
By our wretched brethren,
Pouring the liquid of our latent being,

Instead,
He stands incarcerated,
Forgotten by the Lilliputians,
A total desecration of a noble being,
A mere effigy of the masses,
A mocking example of
Humanity.

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