He was born one Holocene morn
Into a beautiful home
Then the authorities
Took his land away – to grow turnips for cattle
With no planning permission for natural beauty
He was told to remove it
He would not
Two dudes in uniforms arrived
And began to wipe out the beauty of his house
At first, using their flint tools
They scoured and scoured until
Like a trapped bear
With gunnies on every side of him
They punctured his body
And his blood merged with the sunset