For death to show its face
All the dreams of grazing
in the meadows
around the place
the simple joy of
green wild flowers
and buds as sweet as dew
are ended when we
walk on through the doors
designed by you.
our murderers
our consumers
you cannot wait
to kill
to buy bits of us
chopped up
and to fill the till
of the supermarket
butchers in their pristine
coats of white
with their bloodied
henchmen working
in the slaughterhouse
at night.
smothered in our blood
they are
those creatures steeped in pain
they treat us like commodities
heinous their refrain
slice our throats through
thats what they do
and watch us dance on high
with all life’s blood
now leaving us
we hang there in the sky
On bloody chains
we move one legged
heads down almost glide
until more men
more frozen hearted fiends
Tear from inside
our trachea’s
our legs they saw
and still some are aware
we puke
our blood
our lymph
is drained only then
they spare
Our agony by
chopping us in half
then we agree
all the torture
and massive loss
of blood
and we are free
to feed blood lusting
vampires
you carnivores
who feel you cannot
live one moment
without our flesh
for real.
Inspired by the post on CCTV
in slaughterhouses.
Rex Tyler is a Poet, Campaigner, former owner of an organic shop of 30 years, and Public Speaker living in Berkhamsted, UK.