Inspired by a post from Angel Henderson “The Shed”

Thousands crammed together
into, vast sheds of life
at one end extermination
agony and strife
a vile determination
a sick disturbing place
where one by one
dismemberment is
carried on a pace
A sea of seething souls
whose air is tainted, and is vile
the stench of urine permeates
the senses, it does rile
even the most nonchalant
regard this place as Hell
where blood and sinews
are strewn about
and with that gut wrenching smell

Man made this, he created
this bewildered state
and he imagines it is
fine, for they haven’t long to wait
his eyes just can not see
the filth, that truly rotten sight
that treats the eyes of strangers
and turns their day to night
the cacophony of madness
that appears to underlie
this expressionless existence
where just so many die
and the torrid sickness
lost,
its cost,
just rules
its the ghastliest of ghastly dreams
for morbid selfish fools

an excruciating emptiness
evolves within one’s soul
at the thought of all this
torture and lack of real control
in such a sad environment
nothing can prepare
the eyes for what now
fills each glance
for there’s nothing
to compare
outside of death and mayhem
and the putrid smell of death
its doors are locked
its windows blocked
and the fight goes on for breath
for the stuff of life is missing
and water, it is too
seems impossible to imagine
that the light is bright right through
an excessive glaring spacial
glow
that effectively creates
a blindness by the time
they get close to the killing gates
the chickens then reach panic mode
that constant stress devours
their brain
If one moves all move
its just a wicked chain

a frantic mass of feathers
beaks pecking away
and the wretchedness is evidenced
by this terrible display
A glimpse of utter horror
where infidels do roam
white coated masked disagreeables
and not so far from home
create this bubbling stew
the human beings stutter
whilst their asking you
do they go home
and make love
to their frantic wives at night
can they black out all of this
and just feel its al’ right
Do they feel a sick sensation
or are they lost souls now?
automaton’s, unfeeling sods
who really don’t know how

switched off to reality
depraved in many ways
depleted of all decency
already in their graves
a suppurating sanctity
whose low life does embrace
scuppers gnawing at the flesh
all around their face

and those who deign
to manage
and to profit from the fear
everyone can feel it
its really very queer
Chickens are a social set
a pecking order, Yes
but loving of their families
more than some might guess
maternally majestic
caring so to say
and to wear them down
as these sheds do
it should never be the way

and what of, fat cat executives
in their boardroom’s who
Remy Martin seemingly
cause livers to pickle through
imbalanced by their diet
impassioned by their lust
for their coffers to be flowing
with shock, awe, and disgust

what are their thoughts on chickens
do they ever think
or are the much more interested
in another drink
a fat cigar of course foie gras
on brown toasts served me thinks
by some young girl whose all a whirl
by the money and high jinks
what of the wives or the husbands
of the exterminators
how do they really feel about it all
do they feel like traitors
that’s what’s wrapped up in each packet
karma and how can one hack it
its turning them gray
its making them pay
for what is indeed still a racket
The corporate contracts are hefty
the prices they want indeed small
after the hygiene and husbandry
standards
the farmer gets nothing at all

And that’s why the chickens are tortured
crammed into sheds, hopeful they
will take out a few of the weak birds
and fight like the clappers okay
all their excrement has to be handled
all their urine as well must be too
its stored for a while then its piped
on the land
and we all share the bugs and the poo
it gets into the rivers the lakes
and the pools
into our water supply yes the fools
believe its a nonsense, but nonsense its not
its get into the ground water
and when its got

there, then we all realize just how bad
these sheds loads of creatures
who just end up mad
imprisoned and tortured
and treated like Hell
not fed well, not watered
and left in that smell
that sickens the spirit
that tortures the mind
and all of it comes
from the chicken’s behind
Corporate profit off sets
the loss
sitting on their fat arse’s
not caring the toss

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