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Dedicated to the Pilot Whales murdered in the cove 9/28/14.
[Click for more info about the slaughter.]
Dedicated to the Pilot Whales murdered in the cove 9/28/14.
[Click for more info about the slaughter.]
by Zach Affolter
A Wavering Sun:
The sun wavers in the crimson sky;
The waves weep and cry.
The shadowed hills slash the ocean,
sawing back and forth until it lies bleeding and broken.
A red tear falls from a mournful eye,
children scream in horror as they leave their mothers left to die,
hovering above the blackened sea,
destined for a miserable life in captivity.
A white heart glistens on the babies' chest,
that the greedy men below want only to possess.
The babies glare at the murderers who will butcher their parents.
Their gazes are met with glossy eyes that see only dollar signs - a lust that is so errant.
The sun is suffocated by the clouds, turning all color to gray.
The trees are battered by the wind; branches snap in two and helplessly lie on the ground slain.
The waves grow angry and careen into the sharp edges of the rock,
but this slaughter even the ocean's endless power could not stop.
The last cries of the babies fade away,
their bodies to be left in prison and decay.
Their family lies trapped in the land's ravenous maw,
left to battle memories, exhaustion, and fear before they are crushed by its jaw.
Distressed, they throw themselves against the rocks, hoping to escape,
but the cold clutches of mankind have already sealed their fate.
Light fades to black as the sun drowns itself in the angry sea,
never to rise again on these poor souls destined to be slaughtered in Taiji.
They cry to each other and huddle in the darkness,
trying to find a glimmer of light but the sky is starless.
Wisps of fog and angry winds descend upon the pod in the morning,
then fade away, smothering them in an eerie silence; the rest of the world is snoring.
Boats sneak out of the harbor,
leaving an ugly white scar in the water.
You'd think people would see its wake,
but they turn their heads away and bite into a steak.
All around them the world crumbles and falls,
but, feeling the need for new makeup, they rush like sharks to the mall.
Screams fill the air as the Pilots cry in despair;
in this cruel world they are hopelessly ensnared.
Waves crash into the side of the cove as blood stains the water.
Babies are pushed away, watching helplessly while their mothers are slaughtered.
The blood-red arms clutch the wild, blue sea,
stains so bright you'd think the world would see.
But it goes about fussing and fretting
on its appearance; the real flaws it is forgetting.
Bodies thrash and drown in their own blood.
Shadowed figures throw the carcasses onto the skiffs, blocking the light of the sun.
The boats crawl away, leaving a white scar in the blood-stained water,
but people still are blind, frantically searching for that dollar.
The cove grows silent, as if nothing had happened,
as if no one was watching, as if no one cared, as if no one was saddened.
The crimson water glares against the colorless sky,
as if the ocean had bled and was about to die.
An angel cloaked in white sulks her head against the prison's glass,
knowing that, like her family, another pod had passed,
had been chased from the depths of the sea,
had been slaughtered in the blasted cove of Taiji.
The remaining members of the Pilot Whale family
swim in the blood of those murdered so wrongly.
Babies float listlessly without their mothers,
alone in this cruel, heartless world where those with white hearts are slaughtered.
Red waves surge onto the shores,
angry of this murder that the world fails to abhor.
The land stabs the dying sea;
the waves recede in defeat.
Is there any hope left in this world so heartless,
or are the skies forever starless?
Is there any common sense hiding somewhere on the earth,
or all we all destined to lie dead in the dirt?
All the green, all the blue, all the beauty in this world is fading away
while mankind blindly stumbles, its face buried in a cell phone all day.
It is time for us to reawaken,
it is time for us to save this world so forsaken.
It is not too late to change our ways.
The sun rises in Taiji, exposing the horror in its rays.
There is hope, we can stop this bloodshed, this murder, this greed and save the earth.
Now is the time. The choice is yours!
A Wavering Sun:
The sun wavers in the crimson sky;
The waves weep and cry.
The shadowed hills slash the ocean,
sawing back and forth until it lies bleeding and broken.
A red tear falls from a mournful eye,
children scream in horror as they leave their mothers left to die,
hovering above the blackened sea,
destined for a miserable life in captivity.
A white heart glistens on the babies' chest,
that the greedy men below want only to possess.
The babies glare at the murderers who will butcher their parents.
Their gazes are met with glossy eyes that see only dollar signs - a lust that is so errant.
The sun is suffocated by the clouds, turning all color to gray.
The trees are battered by the wind; branches snap in two and helplessly lie on the ground slain.
The waves grow angry and careen into the sharp edges of the rock,
but this slaughter even the ocean's endless power could not stop.
The last cries of the babies fade away,
their bodies to be left in prison and decay.
Their family lies trapped in the land's ravenous maw,
left to battle memories, exhaustion, and fear before they are crushed by its jaw.
Distressed, they throw themselves against the rocks, hoping to escape,
but the cold clutches of mankind have already sealed their fate.
Light fades to black as the sun drowns itself in the angry sea,
never to rise again on these poor souls destined to be slaughtered in Taiji.
They cry to each other and huddle in the darkness,
trying to find a glimmer of light but the sky is starless.
Wisps of fog and angry winds descend upon the pod in the morning,
then fade away, smothering them in an eerie silence; the rest of the world is snoring.
Boats sneak out of the harbor,
leaving an ugly white scar in the water.
You'd think people would see its wake,
but they turn their heads away and bite into a steak.
All around them the world crumbles and falls,
but, feeling the need for new makeup, they rush like sharks to the mall.
Screams fill the air as the Pilots cry in despair;
in this cruel world they are hopelessly ensnared.
Waves crash into the side of the cove as blood stains the water.
Babies are pushed away, watching helplessly while their mothers are slaughtered.
The blood-red arms clutch the wild, blue sea,
stains so bright you'd think the world would see.
But it goes about fussing and fretting
on its appearance; the real flaws it is forgetting.
Bodies thrash and drown in their own blood.
Shadowed figures throw the carcasses onto the skiffs, blocking the light of the sun.
The boats crawl away, leaving a white scar in the blood-stained water,
but people still are blind, frantically searching for that dollar.
The cove grows silent, as if nothing had happened,
as if no one was watching, as if no one cared, as if no one was saddened.
The crimson water glares against the colorless sky,
as if the ocean had bled and was about to die.
An angel cloaked in white sulks her head against the prison's glass,
knowing that, like her family, another pod had passed,
had been chased from the depths of the sea,
had been slaughtered in the blasted cove of Taiji.
The remaining members of the Pilot Whale family
swim in the blood of those murdered so wrongly.
Babies float listlessly without their mothers,
alone in this cruel, heartless world where those with white hearts are slaughtered.
Red waves surge onto the shores,
angry of this murder that the world fails to abhor.
The land stabs the dying sea;
the waves recede in defeat.
Is there any hope left in this world so heartless,
or are the skies forever starless?
Is there any common sense hiding somewhere on the earth,
or all we all destined to lie dead in the dirt?
All the green, all the blue, all the beauty in this world is fading away
while mankind blindly stumbles, its face buried in a cell phone all day.
It is time for us to reawaken,
it is time for us to save this world so forsaken.
It is not too late to change our ways.
The sun rises in Taiji, exposing the horror in its rays.
There is hope, we can stop this bloodshed, this murder, this greed and save the earth.
Now is the time. The choice is yours!
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