I Am The Bull


I wait in my stall for a feed

Here he comes and at last I can eat

But what do I see in his hand?

Not food but newspaper

He stuffs it in my ears.

Signorita Madrid

I look up and question him

He put’s vaseline in my eyes

He has cotton wool for my nose

so I cannot breathe.

He sticks a needle in my balls

Rubs caustic stuff in my legs

I can no longer Lie down.

You think this is enough?



He drugs my food with laxatives

Locks me in a black box for two days

I am surrounded by shit … bull shit.

You think this is funny?

Then he opens the door to my stall

I am set free

I run to the light



So Happy to be out and about

Then I see you

Hundreds of you

Chasing me down the bull run

I’m tired … so tired

But still you chase me.

The Picadors pick me up when I fall

They sink their pics into my neck

They twist them till I bleed.

You think that is all?

The Matador buries his harpoon

In my aching back

It severs the artery and I fall

To my knees.

Mata Hari Madrid

One last thrust through the heart

The red cape swirls back

The crowd roars

You think I feel no pain?

 Dying bull


© Renee Dallow ( Hybiscus Bloom ) 7/9/2014


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