A Pig Tale

Against crushing my babies
I cannot turn around
I sit on my sores
On the cold shitty ground
I weep for myself
and humanity too
For in essence advancement
Won’t happen for you

You are lost
in your paper trail
Money and Power
Profit and Margins
I may be a sow
But have an intelligence
I have a brain
I have an instinct
again and again

They have raped me
and made me
spend months in these crates
again its is monstrous
that your lot creates
Such infamous torture
for birthing should be
quiet clean and comfortable
done so gently

instead its rendition
its torture its pain
Its satanic and senseless
And of course it does drain
the life out of me
and we all suffer so
And now I’ve lost one of them
Where did he go?

And then I saw him
in the hands of that man
Holding him skywards
What was his plan
Too late
crashing down
to the cold concrete floor
He just killed the baby
I did so adore

I just couldn’t help myself
Tears filled my eyes
I was bashed on the snout
With a big pair of pliars
but the thought that this
murdering scum bag should feel
He could murder my child
and I wouldn’t squeal

He hit me again
and kicked me as well
My poor legs were bruised
and arthritic as hell
I was sickened with grief
and agonised by
the bruise on my legs
and just wondering why

a sentient human
can contemplate this
inordinate torture
I’d wanted to kiss
my baby, but this brute
chucked him on the floor
and kicked him along
right out of the door

I was sullen, I vowed
I would not eat again
I was under the most
terrible strain
I wouldn’t allow them
to abuse me no more
But in fact I was earmarked
for slaughter, so

I couldn’t walk
I couldn’t get up
But they got a fork lift
with a sort of a cup
and picked me up out of the
Gestation crate
and went for slaughter
Today was the date

All my piglets were gone
To China Town they
Would all be, suckling pigs
Yes they would pay
With their young lives
in many ways, they
were far better off
dying this way