How Hunters Celebrate Their Shameful "Hot Shot Party"
By Linda Beans, Animals In Print

From all-creatures.org
Animal Rights Poetry

| Home Page | Poetry Table of Contents | Archive | Animal Rights Articles |

How Hunters Celebrate Their Shameful "Hot Shot Party"
By Linda Beane, Animals In Print

Hey I am inviting you all to a shameful "hot shots' party."
The hunter's big celebration to show off their new manhood,
Displaying all their victims newly mounted heads.
Walls covered with newly decapitated wild animals' heads,
Trophies" of the hunters' shame.
Remnants of their gutless efforts to be men.

Now to start things off right,
We need music. Who else but the"BUCK SHOTS"

Grab your little instruments fellows and lets rock!

Come on everyone lets shake them some ass.
Right foot, left foot.
"Shake your bounty-shake, shake, shake!
Shake your bounty-shake, shake, shake!"
And what is music without the song,

" HEY NOW, HEY HOW?
CAN THEY BE SO MEAN?
CAUSE THEY HAVE NO HEARTS
IT MAKES THEIR EGOS KEEN.

HEY NOW, HEY HOW?
IT'S HEAD TROPHIES TIME?
THESE MEN CAN SHOOT A GUN
AND IT'S A KILLING CRIME.

HEY NOW, HEY HOW?
DO YOU MOUNT THE HEAD?
WITH FAKE EYES OF GLASS
BUT THEY STILL ARE DEAD.

HEY NOW, HEY HOW?
WHO, WHAT, WHEN AND WHERE.
IT IS TIME TO TALK
AND I'M A GONNA TO GO THERE!

Hey now....Hey how" (music fades out......)
---------------------------------------------------------

Hey that was great song, Dick, you really worked it out.
Thanks everyone, lets sit down everyone. Take a rest.

I have been doing some perplexing reflecting,
In my spare tickey-tock time.
Been thinking about you hunting men.
Especially you fellows of the "decapitated animal head fame."
Yeah, you over there, under the deer head.
Got some questions for you all.
I want to go to that "we don't ever talk about it zone."
The place where you reinvent your murders.
Like what is with those glass eyes in those heads you got hanging all around?
Where's their real eyes?
Where's.... their..... eyes?
Gotta an answer little man with a gun?
Can't leave the real eyes there can you?
Letting them ooze, crack ,rot and then shrivel up.
They would look dead, the head would be morbid.
Even you would have to admit they look shameful.
The horror and pain you created would stare back at you.
Reflecting your own fetid soul.
THE EYES MUST BE PLUCKED OUT!
What dark hole do you crawl into?
Do you have a special eye removal place?
A room where you go elbow deep in blood and brains?
Where you trade sticky eyes for glass replacements?
Eyes that never saw their mother, never watched a sunset,
Nor saw their own reflection in the quiet gentle streams of life.
Rock hard eyes that know not of living nor of you,
But glisten outward in deceptive echoes of agony,
Eyes that reflect back your lies.
"I didn't die or ever suffer in agony and terror, nor care that you have murdered me."
Yeah the trigger happy fingers of your wasted hands
Do not want the blood stains pointing back to them.
You can't leave the messy, accusing traces of your massacre.
The severed head must gleam from the wall,
Less all know the extent of your violent and vain acts.
So you pretend, you lie, you struggle to take away their dignity, their death.
But your shameful acts aren't hidden with artificial eyes
So while you preen, enjoying your own invisible valor.
Standing there under the deer's head,
Smug, the purveyor of death In the First Degree.
Can't you feel them?
The eyes?
THE EYES STARING AT YOU!
WATCHING YOU..
Waiting for you.
Watching and waiting--the "eye bawls."
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE????