Utter contempt
\nFor a beautiful soul
\nWhose historicity
\nWas in control
\nA true inner being
\nEnduring was she
\nThe desert the sands
\nWell grounded she be<\/p>\n
Essentially spirited
\nIn point of fact
\nCarrying travelling
\nShe could react
\nWorking with vigour
\nWeighty and strong
\nSteadfast and willing
\nTo work to belong<\/p>\n
On prolonged journeys
\nShe was powerful and strong
\nAnd as she got older
\nNo matter how long
\nShe pushed through the sand
\nAll embracing was she
\nAn astonishing friend
\nTo her master to be<\/p>\n
On her back slung the cargo
\nAnd despite its great bulk
\nShe would keep up the pace
\nAnd just never sulk
\nA superior being
\nA majestic repose
\nWorking to please
\nAs the old saying goes<\/p>\n
When she became lame
\nChaos set in
\nShe was discarded
\nHer head in a spin
\nShe always had hoped
\nShe would be retired
\nTo some desert paradise
\nAnd would not be required
\nTo slave anymore
\nBut just rest and be sure
\nAll the work she’d
\nPut in
\nNo one would ignore<\/p>\n
But man isnt kind
\nThese merchants soon see
\nThe need to replace
\nSomething younger
\nAnd she
\nSold off to someone
\nJust anyone who
\nWould give over some cash
\nTo turn her into stew<\/p>\n
Lead off to the store
\nA butchery place
\nAnd there to be slaughtered
\nYes such a disgrace
\nShe had hoped for retirement
\nA warm quiet retreat
\nBut instead it was death
\nBy halal in the heat<\/p>\n
That old blunt knife
\nWas used like a saw
\nRupturing blood vessels
\nYes by the score
\nA fountain of crimson
\nA great well of pain
\nBeyond comprehension
\nA boundless refrain<\/p>\n
All those thoughts
\nFlooded back of the journeys
\nShe made
\nOf the terrible weights
\nAnd how much was laid
\nOn her tired back and flanks
\nAs she drove through the sand
\nGasping in the hear
\nTrying to understand<\/p>\n
Falling down on her knees
\nWith her eyes fading fast
\nHer time was over
\nHer die was cast
\nThe sicko’s were weird
\nAnd decided that they
\nWould prop her up straight
\nIn a sort of display<\/p>\n
And carve from her body
\nHer flesh as it sold
\nAdd ferns at her neck
\nAnd it just did unfold
\nThe evil of man of the butchering class
\nWho abused her memory
\nEach backsliding arse
\nTotal disrespect
\nFor a valiant soul
\nEvisceration
\nSome invalid goal<\/p>\n
A point of sale
\nA deterioration
\nMade to look lifelike
\nThough their occupation
\nTheir sinister artwork
\nA foot from the grave
\nSuch vulnerability
\nFor a dead slave<\/p>\n
Her disequilbrium
\nThrust into view
\nDisfigured and contorted
\nNow far from true
\nOut of kilter a bit mangled
\nKnocked out of shape
\nPerverted and twisted
\nAnd bound up with tape<\/p>\n
Such an ugly effigy
\nHacked at each day
\nGashes and slashes
\nSuch an ugly array
\nOf dried bloodied bones
\nAnd a haven for flies
\nCreating their maggoty
\nRealms as a prize
\nFor the unsuspecting
\nThe diners who bought
\nRepulsed by the off putting
\nStench that they snort
\nUp into their nostrils
\nThat acrid hors d’oeuvre
\nThat weakens the stomach
\nAnd so tests the nerve<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Utter contempt For a beautiful soul Whose historicity Was in control A true inner being Enduring was she The desert the sands Well grounded she be Essentially spirited In point of fact Carrying travelling She could react Working with vigour … Continue reading