Life’s a Jungle… I’m but a fallen king.. (a poem by Jack)

IMG_4484In another life time I carried a big stick.. Symbolized my power..

Performed wonders!

In yet another time… My gorgeous mane flowed… Blondness reciprocating the sun’s glory…And my surrounding Pride guaranteed my dominance… expounding upon my excellence with every purr of their breath….

Each purr eloquently defining hegemony…

Across the golden terrain… A vast kingdom to rule… A great balance to be had…

Moving together as one… I as their symbol of excellence… They as the brains of the machine… I knew I could be replaced… But as long my righteousness reverberated I knew I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon…

Down wind… Exposes potential prey…

Savagery and brutality were the only means to maintain the status quo…

But that was a time before…

This concrete jungle is of little difference…

The unity isn’t there.. But the savagery is all the same… I’ve seen great pride tear through the souls of men..

Dragon’s breath no longer sparkles…

Lions den’s are all but vacant…

Sins grow exponentially…

And the lions are reduced to common alley cat thugs…

Feral .. Moody beings… Stragglers with little hope… And no destination… Bouncing from back alley to back alley… Living to survive…

No pride… Which creates an absence of pride.. Every man for himself… No pride… Every woman is fair game..

No families… Just babies… And mothers of babies… Adding to the stray cat population…

Get your cats spade and dogs nudered… While the Price is Right…

While their lives have worth… Young kittens shed innocence as well as self worth at an early age..

The reconstructed jungle unfolds.. And the game explains itself..

No longer seeking excellence but settling for the constraints of an abrasive social constraint…

Confined within a box..we have no room to grow… No vision to blossom.. We have no lions to see and have no vision of what to be… We’ve never heard the bellow of righteousness trumpet from the lungs of a Jungles King…

We’re left with shameful lullabies….

All the cries… Moans… And meows of repression are far too familiar.. A familiar melody that we all sing along to…

A lion’ weep is worth the wrath of billion strays…

And too much Pride has kept the lion bottled up inside…

Without a tear… To shed…

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