By Bernie Jones
Animal Rights Poetry
Moo-ving people toward compassionate living
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By Bernie Jones firstname.lastname@example.org
I am trying to look into the heart of THAT man
He looks like he could be my father, my brother, my lover
I'm trying to see that THAT man, has a heart
He looks so ordinary, no different from one man or another
I have such bad feelings towards THAT man
I cannot comprehend his motivation
THAT man eats, drinks and sleeps the same as you and I,
Looking at him, I find it hard to hate him
It's so hard to believe he commits such horrendous acts
It's just a job to him, killing, day in, day out
Does he understand the evil behind what he does?
Is he well aware what suffering is all about?
Does he think about the suffering, though simply not care?
Does he value money, higher than life?
Does he know what morals are? Have principles, values?
Does he ever repent as he uses his knife?
Does he see the fear in the animal's eyes?
Does he care as she struggles to get free?
Does he care as he places the bolt to her head?
Or does he simply choose not to see?
Does he laugh as she clumsily falls to the floor,
As he takes his knife and slits her throat?
Does he ignore her when she becomes conscious again
Thrashing more blood on his already spattered overcoat?
That pig's in agony, she's fully conscious
As her throat is roughly slit
Struggling, squealing, kicking, smashing
Crashing to the floor of the blood pit
Is that just a necessary part of the job
Seeing suffering every day?
Does he really believe the vile things he does
Are the right, the ONLY way?
He's paid per head, killing faster and faster
Who cares if the pregnant cow is awake?
THAT man needs the cash for his holiday in Spain
Killing for survival's sake?!
It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it
That's what most people say
They don't even question the majority's norm
That there might just be another way?!
"I wouldn't do it, but thank God for THAT man."
My loved ones keep THAT man covered in blood
They are as cruel as THAT man who holds the knife
He does the job that they don't think they could!
They choose not to see the horrors they support
The pain and suffering they cause
Never to know the hell inside the slaughterhouse,
See deaths of the innocents without a voice.
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