Monday, July 28, 2014

The monkeys are running the zoo

A zoo's a place where we can see
Animals in captivity,
Where we can gawk, and others gape,
And see gymnastics by an ape.

Some like all creatures serpentine,
As they uncoil and recline,
But as for me, I tend to shake,
When I'm confronted by a snake.

A lion growls in his sleep;
Is this the life he'd really keep?
His diligent and patient mate
lies near, but won't elaborate.

Caged birds squawk and swoop and scatter;
What's behind their chitter-chatter?
Perhaps if they had any say,
They'd pack their bags, and fly away.

The monkeys look a lot like us;
Are we a subject they discuss?
Do they presume we're out on bail,
Relaxed, while they remain in jail?

The languid bears bask in the sun,
But are they having any fun?
Would they bet that we're fit to eat,
And classify us as a treat?

Who's in the zoo, and by what rules?
Are we, too, animals, or ghouls?
Have we an answer, something pat,
And worthy of a diplomat?

This spinning globe on which we live,
Is filled with creatures we can give
The same rights that we hold as true,
Or simply place them in a zoo.

No comments:

Post a Comment