Poems Gedichte I still eat meat, but maybe you might want to think about it. Cows, pigs and chickens are living beings. They live to die. Do they deserve the live they lead? Can murder be humane? Did We Get the Life We Deserve? Low subtle moos of contentment. Turned to the cries of death. Prodded to move in a passage That leads to my final breath. I have not harmed them or hurt them. They have condemned without plea. They have decided to profit By killing my flesh for a fee. Their spikes and their knives, they hurt me. They stab me but Im not yet dead. They watch til I twitch and I falter. My limbs are now bruised and have bled. The laughter of workers misleading. The sound of the dying, no joke. This living to die is a burden. The baring of meat is a yolk. The slaughter is slow, but more awful, We knew where wed end on the way. You kill me, I die and its over? The killing goes on every day. You eat and I die for your pleasure. You sit after supper, relax. I live in a tiny compartment And die at the hand of an axe. Intestines make rows on the concrete. The blood of my veins paints the floor. The warmth of the steakhouse is soothing. A customer burps and wants more. My life is designed for the ending. We creatures, we suffer to serve. We fill up the plates that youre eating. Did we get the life we deserved? CA Roberts 07.03.14 I still eat meat, but maybe you might want to think about it. Cows, pigs and chickens are living beings. They live to die. Do they deserve the live they lead? Can murder be humane? Did We Get the Life We Deserve? Low subtle moos of contentment. Turned to the cries of death. Prodded to move in a passage That leads to my final breath. I have not harmed them or hurt them. They have condemned without plea. They have decided to profit By killing my flesh for a fee. Their spikes and their knives, they hurt me. They stab me but Im not yet dead. They watch til I twitch and I falter. My limbs are now bruised and have bled. The laughter of workers misleading. The sound of the dying, no joke. This living to die is a burden. The baring of meat is a yolk. The slaughter is slow, but more awful, We knew where wed end on the way. You kill me, I die and its over? The killing goes on every day. You eat and I die for your pleasure. You sit after supper, relax. I live in a tiny compartment And die at the hand of an axe. Intestines make rows on the concrete. The blood of my veins paints the floor. The warmth of the steakhouse is soothing. A customer burps and wants more. My life is designed for the ending. We creatures, we suffer to serve. We fill up the plates that youre eating. Did we get the life we deserved? CA Roberts 07.03.14
Posted on: Sat, 08 Mar 2014 03:53:00 +0000