Exstinktion

Indoors and worldly-wise, the young guns boast. Pale faces scorched. Desert sand shoes tread softly on animal rugs. Skins as trophies, symbolic like Indian scalps. A flashback perhaps, yet barbarism, pirates and thievery rackets still pervade under our noses. A bouquet of vintage notes — exchange paper and chink — their glasses raisin'. Shooting elephants with bravadery. No overture for this racket of ivories against ebony for tusks and hides. White lenses focused to capture the crimes. The beauty, the gloss of a model ideal, albeit long legs and thigh gaps or top gear's ignition combustion.

Outside in the wild, with his nose he knows. Senses the scent. Magnificence untamed uncaged. Hearing what's here, what's beyond he knows not. No imaginary links for this lynx. Eyes sharp black icicles, for icy calls of a mate in heat. He chews to live. Death in a heartbeat. Driven by need, fear, survival. Instinct in-sync. Fear taste flesh, bristles alive. He knows pain. He skulks, prowls, hunts. His pride he nurtures. His pleasure unnamed. His nature studied, observed in safari, binocular spectacle, YouTube cruel comedies, documentaries and ethical zoos — to prevent extinction of course.

Back at home, we, the domestic cheetahs, awake in the night, freeze in our silences. Hunt with our sharpened tongues. Make love and war through what is said or left unsaid. Press buttons, pull triggers, squirm for fun. Knowledge is power and loss and nostalgia. Our noses held high from the filth. Look the other way, we've risen so high. No more squatting in evolution. Clean ablutions and high rise, dressed to kill in leathers and furs. Our perfumes camouflage deceit. What conscience is left? Where is the compassion in dog eat, fight, bite, dog. Howling through our losses, our sorrows, our frustrations. Minds blown from what we know and have yet to discover. The concatenation of signifiers cut as meanings arise, whilst repeated dichotomies and sound-bites come most easily. In the real, words define the law but actions make history. The cat is already out of the bag. Sniff a fair game and choose. We'll pay in kind when our choices stink.