Harambe: A Lament

Why, Harambe

Why did you have to go

Ripped from this life, from this earth

In the flash of a bullet

Fired by your captors, your oppressors

Those who kept you stowed away

In the tight confines of Cincinnati zoo

They caged you, Harambe

They made you a spectacle for human voyeurs

They took the ape out of its natural habitat

But they could not take the ape out of the ape

They could not break the ape

Harambe, you remained great

A shimmering beacon of socialist hope

A burning hammer and sickle that lit up the sky

And I still see you in rainbows

But there you lie

Dead, a day after your seventeenth birthday

Murdered by Owen Smith

Murdered in cold blood

A deed so foully orchestrated

Masterminded by the normal man from Pontypridd

Stroking his grotesque, coiling twenty-nine inch penis

Scowling with furrowed brow

Seething hatred in shifty eyes

Finger on the trigger


They love him

Mewled the wretched Smith

Why do they not love me

I am a normal man

I beat off a thousand lads to get my wife

That’s leadership

My banter is good

Yet they heckle and they boo

And they call me a Blairite nonce

And a Blairite cop

And also a Blairite slug

this is why Harambe must die

To snuff out this flickering hope

So the people shall no longer seek solace in hard-left gorillas

But those who are moderate




And above all, Normal

The people’s ape must perish

And in order to catalyse this event

I will throw this child into the gorilla enclosure


Owen Smith smirked a mirthless smirk

He folded up his snaking monstrosity and wiped his prints off the gun



A hero of our movement, gone

O Harambe, I hear your name in the whistle of the wind

O Harambe, I see your bold visage flashing  cross mighty seas

You are more than an ape, but you are the ape

Every red flag we fly is smeared with the glorious shit you once flung

Every worker’s song we sing is imbued with your industrious spirit

You are collective action, the anti-John Galt

Who is Harambe? Harambe is all of us

Harambe is socialism

And to kill Harambe

Is to lay to waste the beautiful dreams of youth

To spit in the face of Marx’s empirical science

To imbalance whatever natural order exists on this fragile earth,

So sleep well, sweet comrade

El Commandant

The chairman of our hearts

All of our dicks hang out in your honour

And Owen Smith

Should be ashamed of himself


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