Kangaroo

no quarter will be given

when the stripes become scars

and scars just another stripe

when the listless anxieties

are paths traced in the fading rug

there will be no quarter given

when, sun beaten and wet backed,

the spiteful heels of half forgotten sorrow

return the weak to that self-same drift

into the curtain of diminishing hope

we call the horizon

there will be no quarter given

the meek will inherit the earth

and

this

will

be

their

final

punishment