Kids all tied up in chains
It won’t be long now
Slender bone caresses the steel
Layers of trust ignite to peel
Kick and bleat all you need
Your mothers are dead too
On hind leg’s your world’s strung up
Waiting to be served near plastic cups
Eyes wide open
Two children scream from side to side
Throats hung open
From back to back die fading cries
God gave me dominion
I know you don’t want to
But survival’s become bastardized
Everyone gets traumatized
Tiny black feet running on air
A cloud raining blood
Cleaver marked by a killer’s sweat
Awaiting that steaming, crimson jet
No sympathy for the flock
A devilish wolf, likes to feed
Swinging you softly to death
Saran replaces wool
Somewhere a coward’s belly is full
Author notes
We feel like we own everything. Every goddamn thing.
A contest entry
- For the AP members who care about animals by Cloudwalker.
550 points, ended April 25, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please post your opinions in the box. Contrary to popular belief, I read them.
Comments
-
goodness..that was the most interesting slaughter-house poem I have ever read...
and despite the morbid gruesome nature of a slaughter-house
...you wrote it very cleverly and smart!
that last line was a kicker:
somewhere out there
a cowards belly is full.
way to write!
ears/Seattle
(oh, please do not take from me my fishing pole!)
-
emotional! i really like it. very powerful
thank you for entering =) -
it is the compensation of failing to feel we own ourselves i guess..
and, as you observe finite everything is not enough..
and as it is, finite, it belongs to the marketing department..
and as you are, infinite, belong to the marketing project supervisor..
and if you are, you belong to the manager...
and if you do, in time, you become finite yourself:
a page, a book, a bra, a hat,
or just a stone.
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