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Let's Not Forget
Your
"meat" comes from a creature who has met
A hideous and
most untimely death.
Nor is it seemly
when upon your dish
Lie corpses of a
murdered bird or fish.
One fleeting
glimpse of any factory farm
Would make the
vilest soul cry in alarm.
The chickens,
cows, and pigs - their lives obscene
Degraded to
meat, mile, and egg machines.
The cows, their
fate sealed at the slaughter house,
Can hear their
friends in front of them cry out.
If we pretend
that of this they know not,
We grossly
underestimate their lot.
The chickens,
five crammed tightly to a cage,
Often peck their
mates in frightened fits of rage.
The light which blinds
these creatures night and day
Adds sin and
cruelty to each egg they lay.
The male chicks
not appealing to our taste
Are tossed alive
in bags to our haste.
This writhing
heap of bodies is not lie.
Eventually, they
suffocate and die.
To better
understand the dairy cow
Try picturing
this horrid scene somehow:
You're pumped
with drugs, you're pregnant and you hurt.
And then your
child is robbed from you at birth.
She is not mere
automation, I say.
She mourns the
loss of her child for several days.
The farmers
steal your milk from you and then
For profit's
say, do it all again.
The child, a
girl, will share her mother's fate.
If is a boy,
he's off to the veal crate -
A squalid,
filthy stall not two feet wide.
He never sees
light and cannot turn inside.
A pig's life is
the cruelest of those around.
The female lies
immobile on the ground.
The male can
sexually enter her at will.
Her infants suck
her nipples through a grill.
Since they've no
space, insanity prevails.
Normally, they'd
bite each other tails.
For farmers this
would cause a profit drain,
So tails are
yanked at birth with squeals of pain.
The more we hide
from these injustices
The less we find
we know what justice is.
We spare our
cats and dogs such "misuse",
So why allow the
others cruel abuse?
Theses are no
automations, I say.
They're feeling
creatures tortured night and day.
By people who in
numbness feel no more,
For use by us,
who in our haste, ignore?
Here is a cause
that rest on naught but us,
And though at
first we kick, scream, and fuss,
We find in time
a wholeness that will last
Despite the
horrors of our actions past.
Those of
religion, here's a truth today,
In from of you
it will not go away.
This is your
trial, if you should shut it our.
Then, say, what
is religion all about?
All poems on this site are copyright to their writer, "Poetic745" and "Artemis745".
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