Contemplation

blonde and
beautiful she was
standing in the yard
she feels
for all those animals in
the truck,and sensitively
reveals

such pain
her inner soul on fire
listening to their cries
so dire

her face is clear
but strained, for she
can’t bear to think
that all those lovely cows
were born to be

playing really in the fields
ruminating for that builds
good strong bones
and a healthy frame
but instead
it never is the same

those concrete stalls
that branded mark
that scorched their flesh
from those so dark
milked by robots every day
their udders almost torn away

made to issue vast supplies
until their lameness just implies
the time has come for them to go
and in the trucks they’re loaded, so

there they are, victims all
no one listens when they call
and call they do, with all their breath
they know we’re sending them to their death

frustration it almost explodes
every hour was work, just loads
of stress and strain and pain and fear
frightened, tortured year on year

and now the death camp is to where
the trucks are going, and they are aware
as is the blonde who hears their cries
she has such beautiful and tearful eyes

as have the cows inside that truck
who sadly have run out of luck
they never had, they never knew
for when man’s around
he can only screw

every weaker earthling till
they break and cry
until they’re still
then its the butcher
or knackers yard
and a memory from
the eco bard