Poems of compassion dedicated to the non-human animals who share this planet with us and the people who fight for them.
Pigs
After an unlife
Their failing health
Condemned in filth
Belly-high shit depth
What’s left?
Slaughter house stress
Even resulting in
‘Hot death’
It’s metabolic
Flesh liquifies in panic
Terrified pigs- shit & vomit
Humans despotic
Mmmmmm, bacon logic
We’re diabolic
High temperature, low ph state
Rapid growth, quick slaughter weight
They’re slated abominable fate
Scared dead pig for your plate
Killing floor heart failure
More so a favor
Spares them the horror
Of violent slaughter
Mass pig murder.
...
The New York Times ran an article about slaughterhouses, meat production, &
pigs.
They reported that pigs are …’so terrified by what happens to them in
slaughterhouses that many suffer a metabolic condition in which their flesh
actually liquefies’….
This hypermetabolic state generates excessively high temperatures & low pH’s
that damage muscle cells, & even leads to heart failure.
This metabolic meltdown results in malignant hyperthermia, or “hot death”.
The article is not about animal rights, it is about how asshole
extraordinaire & interior murder house designer, Temple Grandin, crawls
around ‘like a pig’.
The animal-eating ‘Dr’ does this in order to create a less stressful
environment for those who are prodded & kicked to move to the kill floor.
The author stresses the importance of calming deathrow pigs because stress
ruins the taste & texture of their corpses.
There is even an implemented genetic program to ‘breed anxiety before
slaughter’ out of pigs.
Fucking really?
Grotesque.
Joseph mengele-esque
Oh, it isn’t?
Oh, that’s offensive?
My bad.
I forgot…they’re just animals.
In surreptitiously filmed Minnesota slaughterhouse video, terrified pigs are
visibly shaking before they are murdered.
Wide eyed, whites showing…they’re frozen in fear.
Given their high intelligence…
The pigs moving through the chute & murder line….
Imagine, if you can, one hundred & fifty 3-5 year old humans, being prodded
to move down the same line,
kicked out of a chute…then, awaiting their turn on a kill floor.
Seeing
All
Of
The
Blood.
Hearing
All
Of
The
Screams.
Imagine.
Oh, yeah.
My bad.
They’re just animals…too.
DIG OUT YOUR SOUL
Go on to: Huffy Human
Return to Poetry and Prose by Heidi Coon
Return to Animal Rights Poetry