A tree should share our destiny
if we would only stop and see
how this world precariously
entrusts us with their care.

A tree invites to share its shade
and within its sheltered mossy glade
lovers meet, sweetly get laid
and bind their hearts to share.

But through the ages we cut down
every mighty oak we found
and forests that once did abound
are now dry deserts bare.

And all the creatures we once heard
insect, mammal, reptile or bird
no sound emitted where they once stirred.
Too late, when we now care.

For every tree that we have burned
costs us much more than we earned
Hard lessons taught, nothing learned
love is more than lying there.

A tree should share our destiny,
a seedling planted carefully
protected down the century
provides us with our living air.

A tree defines our destiny.

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For Cecil: Stop Trophy Hunting.

We can feel the heartache
we can feel the lion's pain
we know there's a hunter hanging round
He wants Cecil
to take his mane
can't let that lion get away again
hunter needs a trophy hanging round

But hunters come
Hunters go
Conservation's their thing you know...
Why aren't lots of wildlife hanging round?
Firing their rifle
Shooting their bow
Taking their trophy any way they know
There ain't too much wildlife hanging round.

The camera man
He just sees
Just wants to take a picture away from there
He don't need no trophies hanging round
But a hunter has another need
a different song to a deeper greed
just to have their trophy hanging round

So hunters come
Hunters go
something they don't you to want to know
There ain't too much wildlife hanging round
But since they've come to take a life
words aren't enough
it just ain't right
we won't see our Cecil hanging round.
And we know why no wildlife's hanging round.

For Cecil: Stop Trophy Hunting.

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Beyond The Sum Of All His Fears.

Poached rhino picture courtesy Facebook Rhino groups.

An ageing soldier crying softly, beside a body on the ground
Sheds a tear for his young slain friend
He never thought this would come down.
He'd thrown away all his bush gear, camo paint and forage cap
Spent his life forgetting firefights in dark shadows
Without a thought that he'd go back.

Life has dreams from hard foundations, memories with no shed tears
Struck with the heart ache of our creations
In the invulnerability of our young years
From the vat of our maturation brews a spirit of adventure
That spills towards our next generation
Whom we protect beyond our fears.

The young soldier survived the bush war, threw his life into his dreams
Played a part in the creation
Of an Eden ... or so it seems.
Raised a calf from its lost mum, fed it every day by hand
Grew to love his lost young orphan
Sanctuary for all became the plan.

It is such a sweet temptation for us to simply turn away
To ignore the wildlife decimation
That supplies the Asian trade.
The ineptitude of our nations, the impotence of governments
Sends a message to all caring people
To care a damn is a piece of shit.

Aching heart beside his slain friend, new resolve and a pledge is made
To seek the killers of his now lost brother
The one he'd raised in his sanctuary
But old soldiers know the danger, the blood and all the fears
Never rush to don the camo 
Never want to wear the gear.

Now there's a deeper call of duty, calling way beyond his fears.
He heads along the faint new pathway
Tracking two legged predators
Seeks his quarry in long shadows, where deadly ambushes are laid
Amongst flashing memories of firefights
A last patrol for his young compadre.

Life has dreams from hard foundations, memories of old despairs
Struck with the heart ache of our creations
Amidst the anger and the tears
A deadly shot strikes its target: he never wanted to kill again
But he'll protect his new generation
Beyond the sum of all his fears.


"Slaap sag, rustig ou grote. Slaap sag."
"Rest in peace, old friend. Rest in peace."

South African musician, David Easthouse, has adapted the above to his latest music masterpiece. Check it out here-
David Easthouse- Beyond the sum of all his fears.

Members of the Pilanesberg National Park Anti-Poaching Unit (APU) stand guard as conservationists and police investigate the scene of a rhino poaching incident April 19, 2012. — Reuters pic

The Rhino poaching war escalates. 668 rhino were slaughtered in 2012 in South Africa. This year is off to an equally depressing start: 393 as at end of April! At this rate, 2015 may see over 1500 killed, and that figure is just for South Africa.
This is extermination of a species.

Many reserve owners, who in their youth may have been involved in the wars for independence in Southern Africa, are now - in what should be today's peace - having to take up arms and fight a new battle, this time with the survival of rhino at stake.

Dreams to create wildlife sanctuaries on their land are being crushed. Lives are being lost. Rhino being driven to extinction to supply Asian demand for rhino horn.

Beyond The Sum Of All His Fears.

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Rescue Me.

Jan Schnell, a Copenhagen-based musician, asked me to submit a poem suitable for a musicvideo he was creating to contribute to Big Cat Rescue, a non-profit organisation near Tampa, Florida, USA.


Rescue Me. Jim McIntosh. 2015.

Tiger, tiger, eyes still gleam

in forest shadows of your dreams.

Alone in truckstop steel-caged lair

Humans laugh at your blank stare.

Rescue me

Rescue me

Oh, won't you help to rescue me.

Lion cub: oh, cuddly toy

Look at how man destroys

Grow too big to bring us joy

You'll be sold to macho boys.

Rescue me

Rescue me

Oh, won't you help to rescue me.

Lost jungles once in your command

There's no place left to make a stand

Now all are caged throughout the land

Steel forests locked by human hand

Rescue me

Rescue me

Oh, won't you help to rescue me.

Rescue me

Rescue me

Oh, won't you help to rescue me.

The video has gone on to appear on World Top Rated.
What a great team!

Click on the video link and enjoy!
Music: Niels Ellekrog Weldingh/Jan Schnell

All instruments: Niels Ellekrog Weldingh

Lyrics:

Lead/backing vocals: Jan Schnell

Video mix: Jan Schnell.

This video was created to help promote preserving our wildlife in the wild, but, sadly, many big cats are kept as exotic pets. Big Cat Rescue offers rescued lions, tigers, leopard, etc, a home on 55 acres at their Tampa sanctuary. Donations are welcome.

Rescue Me.

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Her leaving.

Young warriors never knew why she was leaving
Spring would win its way with Winter's snow
Fire would rejoice, flash across the eucalyptus
And all would be scorched with their burning.

Reality can't be mended when it's broken
If it catches fire as young dreams are forming
But fire and ice cannot compromise
When young warriors are still learning.

No one ever knew when she was leaving
Eucalyptus would not grow without bending
Young warriors would fight, fire would play with ice
And no one ever knows a happy ending.

Tall castles are cold, devoid of feeling
Young warriors seek warmth in their affrays
One battles but is lost, others pay the cost
Eucalyptus struggle, bend, and sway.

One warrior found Spring upon her leaving
Another used fire to light his way
Ice would entice, and slowly paralyse
But old warriors never blame her for leaving.

Her leaving.

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Pit-sawn and Dynamite.

Well, I'm wearing no shoes, and a knotted red bandanna
my Levi's cut-off, bleached, and frayed at the knees.
This patience rewarded: my frustrations sublimated
for tomorrow we'll aweigh with the morning's silver breeze.

The Elephant Man's our captain and we know it'll be all right
when we raise our rusty anchor and set sail with the dawn.
We'll seek Portuguese mansions and old slave traders' forts
that still echo desperate cries of the stolen forlorn.

Our old dhow is defiant and ploughs a southern bearing
the sails they are patched and well-worn at the seams.
Its planking pit-sawn from an old tree we borrowed
and it's caulked with the remnants of old sailors' dreams.

We're not looking for medals of great honour
don't want deliverance to God's heavenly gates.
All we want is the whale song around us
and to carry their message before it's too late.

There are no expectations in this battered old suitcase
that has carried my weapons of struggle to the frays.
And we're sailing wild waters on ancient mariners' bearings
where sharks are our companions and fear is no disgrace.

There's a blonde Amazon goddess who leads me on with kindness
our companions are dolphins swimming Eden's coral reef.
But the concussions are deafening, and there's blood in the water
and they carve up our companions as we drown in our grief.

We're not looking for medals of great honour

don't want deliverance to God's heavenly gates
All we want is to stand in defiance
and expose the destruction before it's too late.

And this message we carry is now in life's little bottles
that we cast upon the internet to float through time and space.

And all friends and true believers 'like' and 'share' each posted message
and our songs bring us together to watch over this watery place.

We're not looking for medals of great honour
don't want deliverance to God's heavenly gates.
All we want is the whale song around us
and to carry their message before it's too late.

Pit-sawn and Dynamite.

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