The squeal of the animals
\ncan you believe?
\nthis is not Hell
\nsanity you deceive
\nthose of us hearing
\nthis for the first time
\nfestering somewhere
\non walls of slime<\/p>\n
with blue bottles darting
\nboth forwards and back
\nclearly we felt under
\nan attack
\nas blood coughs and splutters
\nthe orgy of sin
\nerupts from the throats
\nwhere the vile sounds begin<\/p>\n
in the battle for life
\nthat engages the soul
\nthat pressures the mind
\nand exceeds all control
\nwith blood curdling cries
\non our knees we set down
\nwhere wrath finds its seat
\nand as such we all drown<\/p>\n
rasping aloud
\nas clouds do appear
\nthe cries of the dying
\nare heard on the ear
\nas hordes now descend
\na great army divides
\nattacking within
\nand on all different sides<\/p>\n
eggs cracked and bereft
\nspent bodies left
\nfeathers torn out
\nin a frenzy of dance
\npecking is wrecking
\nperhaps the only chance<\/p>\n
the squeals rise and fall
\na wretched pall
\nescapes and survives
\nsome of those lives
\na mantra of might
\nwith the brutish of bite
\ncomes out of the night
\nas each soul now takes flight<\/p>\n
a miasma evolves
\nin the vileness revolves
\ncurling up to the sky
\nlike a Bat who doth try
\nto escape in its way
\nto rise and so play
\nin the thermals a while
\ntrying to reconcile<\/p>\n
we dare not perceive
\nno one doth believe
\nthe cries that we hear
\nare the true sounds of fear
\nthat emanate rapidly
\nas of their right
\nto explode in a sensory
\nsalvo of might<\/p>\n
a chorus of sound
\nthat can only astound
\nthe gentle take fright
\nas great shadows alight
\nas the sickle survives
\ncutting this way and that
\nthrough dozens of lives
\nin to cells into fat<\/p>\n
the muscles of many
\nthe sinews of some
\nbreakdown in the heat
\nand the rule of the thumb
\nis to wander afar
\nbut imprisoned we be
\nclasped in the bosom
\nof angst ever free<\/p>\n
choking and chafing
\npain driven sounds
\ncantankerous comment
\nnow doing the rounds
\nvile innuendo
\nexpletives that roar
\nin the factory farm
\nno one is sure<\/p>\n
what it is
\nwhat it was
\nwhether it was alive
\nin the land of the crazies
\nfew do survive
\nthe moronic marauders
\ntroll like and grotesque
\nwho fret in the moonlight
\nfrom behind their desk<\/p>\n
these are the CAFO men
\nswarthy and lean
\nwho left their hearts some where
\nand since then have been
\nlost in the shadows
\ngripped by each dawn
\nhateful and brutish
\neach devilish morn<\/p>\n
they rise with the lark
\nand corrupt all who see
\ninto their eyes
\nthey stare constantly
\nupwards and sideways
\nand into beyond
\npaid up and ready
\nto quickly abscond <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The squeal of the animals can you believe? this is not Hell sanity you deceive those of us hearing this for the first time festering somewhere on walls of slime with blue bottles darting both forwards and back clearly we … Continue reading