If you’re not in the wild and hear awhoo
You may be in or in the vicinity of a Zoo
Where animals are kept in cages
As they rant and rave in stages
Man is so cruel and selfish that he would
Hold wretched animals for their own good
They say they are so happy that they
Pace in their tiny cages every day
Not longing for the old wild
They are so happy like a child
Rubbing themselves against the iron bars
Until they bleed or become sick with scars
They are so happy that they copulate
With their water bowl or plate
Forgetting what a mate look like
They are so happy that they take a hike
Cower trembling in a corner to hide
From man the watcher ready to chide
Or sleep to dream and dream to sleep
Of the open and the wild and the deep

Suppose the tables are turned and say
Man are then put in cages for display
I am sure they would be a wreck
Yet around the world if you check
Zoos are many a city’s pride and joy
Put for the soul purpose like a toy
For the feast of its citizens’ eyes
To be confined is to lose your ties
Isn’t that what is done to criminals?
Amidst our perpetual daily denials
Yet we spend so much on zoos and less
On our handicapped, sick and homeless

Man is slowly using the entire ruse
In their own manmade human zoos
Man originally was a hunter
And woman the food gatherer
Then he was busy trying to stay alive
Now he has learnt to farm and survive
He thought he was happy and glad
And then he ceased to be a nomad
He sought newer pastures of green
And moved to places he’d never seen
He had developed towering immunity
And sharpened his hunting ingenuity
By staying in one place year after year
Living near his filth around his lair
He developed diseases and lethargy
He acquired collateral damage now
Some things he just can’t disallow
Dumb and obedient in his chore
He is not lean and mean anymore
He is not swift and agile like the monkey
And the women’ve became fat and lazy

Then he got modern machinery
The final nail ending all his chances
And his wife got all the conveniences
And soon there were more leisure times
But not to teach his kids nursery rhymes
He has lost all the keen senses
He could not sit on the fences
He could’ve when he was a hunter
He;s now become a time consumer

The executive instead of stripping down
His expensive car now goes downtown
And after weed, wine and a party
He now strips down his secretary
The kid who used to throw a ball
Is bored and now have more gall
Now throws it at a glass window
To get attention and more show
A wife now has time to mind a pet
Putting her in a different mindset
And now instead of stroking the dog
She watches soap, snores like a log
Fantasize with stars like every film fare fan
With extra time now to stroke the milkman STOP

Honey dropping from her lips
With nothing to do she gossips
Her life is meaningless
Her tiny head in a mess
She doesn’t have to rub and scrub
As her kids sing rub-a-dub-dub
She watches her clothes dry spin
As she gossips trying to fit in
She watches and pause
Creating mischief because
Her life is boring and she’s angry
At times would work on her body
Plucking out her eyebrow
Getting fat like a cow
Enlarge her busts and breasts
Taking boring endless tests
Tighten her waist and hips
Painting and thinning her lips
Starve herself to death in mink
Then finally goes to a shrink
To sit on his couch and crows
As she tells him all her throes

And as usual commerce takes a bite
Cashing in on her weakness for spite
Using music, fashion and sex
As the director cries “Nex?”
To sell their unhealthy product
Using whatever to conduct
Roping women like a yo-yo
As the spectators cry for mo’
Stressing on legs, face and shape
Just to beautify the landscape
Shunning all those who can’t cope
Some turning to the end of their rope
Can’t fit in and have to exit
Then it is not funny a bit
Enter anorexia nervosa
Trying to look younger
All this havoc only makes
Pains, ulcers and headaches
And the pharmacists laughing
After their heft billing
All the way to the banks
Not even saying Thanks

Man too has become bored
Like cancer, he can’t be cured
He has lost all his hunting skill
His meat comes from Knob Hill
His apparel can be bought at Sears
Not from an animal he spears
He doesn’t walk he drives
Can’t hear him when he arrives
To his job back into his garage
His kids think he is a sage
But he is a very worried man
Relaxes with a glass in his hand
As his wife prepares dinner
From a store bought container
Or she slaps up shake and bakes
Just for the kids and his sakes

Don’t ever think that the high
And the lowbrows don’t cry
Losing their useless faculties
Doing boring jobs in factories
Day after day, watching the clock
As bossman sneer and take stock

Men in glass offices shuffling
Busy back and forth running
With sheaves of paper daily in denial
A useless life not fit for an animal
All fruitless tasks to all
Just before their downfall
The profits going to the tycoon
Watching the full tide and moon
Who sits in Florida in the sun
Watching his faxes get done
Running his enterprise from a computer
Far and free from all the helter skelter

Useless tasks spell trouble
With doses coming in double
And so the hospitals and clinics are full
As politicians and others try to pull wool
Over our eyes, because of scheds.
Crying that hospitals have no beds
Raising everyone’s blood pressure
With pharmacies around every corner
As others getting extensive
Medicare is so expensive
In America folks hide their ailments
Because of red tape curtailments
Its too costly to be sick
Using local tricks to lick
Heart attacks are common
At the least summon
They die at an early age
Whilst others die of rage
For their body cannot withstand
The confinement of this land

Man has lost his hunting skills
As he succumbed to tiny pills
And women no longer the food-gatherers
Has lost their immunity of their forefathers
Man has become an animal too
Eventually caught in his own zoo.
© Norman Tewarie





The world keeps on and on grinding
The wheels of the machines turning
While the rich gets richer
And the poor gets poorer

Dumb shoppers just bent on spending
For housewives and bratty kids crying
Never ever even thinking
Who did the fabricating

On their goddam shoes so shiny
On their goddam clothes so hippy
On their goddam nice oriental carpet
On their goddam toys their kids get

And in the west all buyers crowd
Malls and shopping centres aloud
Bartering and spending in fury
Until the bills come in January

In the east parents committing many sins
Selling their own god given young virgins
So pure and innocent to the highest bidder
In India, Malaysia, Cambodia and Burma

Innocent girls 12 and under owned by badgers
Kidnapped and drugged by these vile vultures
Shipped from city to city in trains, boats and ships
Satisfying the sick desires and myopic judgeships

Only men fit to live in Hades
Knowing the evil in their trades
Deflowering kids for a few trinkets
In these inhuman sex flesh markets

Fashion designers who stalks
Display their goods on catwalks
Using anorexics to strut with ease
So thin and weak to take the breeze

It’s all about sex and the lean looks
Which you see in movies and books
With over six inch heels on tiny feet
No one dresses like that on the street

Perverted Caucasians crossing all boundaries
In India they just pay about 60,000 rupees
In suit and tie in the hot sun all buying sin
With a nine year poor young lass a virgin

Back from his business and toys in his grip
He tells his family and kids of his arduous trip
Maybe carrying some STDs or aids
Bragging to pals about his escapades

But mostly the depravity of child prostitution
Comes from India so ripe with full corruption
Innocent girls given to the gods as Devidases
Corrupting the lives of these Nepalese lasses

The initiation deflowering ceremony done by priests
And it’s just like holy predators in some flesh feasts
Employed as slaves in brothels in Goa and Bombay
God help the Bangladeshi children until doomsday

These Devidases live in the temple with sages
They range from the tender 10-14 year ranges
Done by Marathai priests who fears no crackdown
She’s now Servant of god but wife of the whole town

It is believed in Andhra Pradesh evil can be avoided
In the Jogin system if a young girl is so dedicated
Here she gets actually married to the god Potharaju
At the tender age of five and nine nothing is new

Then when she reaches the age of puberty so fine
This young child becomes the exclusive concubine
Or better known as a religious prostitute
For the feudal gentry men of ill-repute

How can men sleep at nights peacefully
Earning their ill gotten gains stealthily
From organized prostitution grime
In this billion dollar sex trade crime

They care not for the kid if he’s dry or wet
Tied by his ankle working on their carpet
Or the other kids doing child labours
And being treated worse than beggars

And when all the fun is done who loses
They’re just keeping up with the joneses
In the harsh world out there
No one in the west even care