Gau Mata (Sacred Cow)
By Leslie J. Linder
An Animal Rights Poem from

All of God's creatures have rights, a fact that most people don't seem to recognize. This includes both human and non-human animals, but not all of them can speak for themselves.

Gau Mata (Sacred Cow)
By Leslis J. Linder, World Peace Writers


They pin me down, my limbs restrained. I
bite, I kick, I rage. But there are too many machines.
Gun clicks, semen sticks.
I am dry, unready. They attack. Rape Rack.
Machines make my baby, but he is born
to me. A child I never know, or even see.
No sweet breath on my face.
No wet mouth on my breast.
He is one of many.
We are milk. We are meat.
I am dairy cow 63, surrounded by
Pale cogs with
watery eyes that they turn away from me.
Cold probes in my womanhood
metal clamps on my breasts
groan and hum
laughing at me.
Vampires suck out my life force
to feed more machines
from a cold cardboard box.
Milk Blood Pus
Still the vampires feed relentlessly
their spiral tubes a double helix of DNA.
They go back to the ghost
of who I was. Of who I AM.
I AM Gau Mata. I AM Sacred Cow.
I AM the Goddess Hathor.
I AM the Eye of Re.
Celestial Cow Star-bellied
I AM Maha-Weret
the Great Flood.
your communion, for
you partake of my milk and my meat.
Unholy Trinity
consume me
three times a day.


I re-member the ancient ways.
I was the flood
of nourishing waters.
I birthed the sun at the dawn of time.
Once human mothers worshipped me
praying for fertility.
They prayed for their milk to flow
back when they relied on their own.
They danced and shook the sistrum.
They gave offerings to me.
My skin strewn with roses.
My horns tipped with gold.
They called on me
great Motherís Eye
glowing in the sky seeing All.
They burned sandalwood to honor me
put wine and figs at my feet.
They trusted me to birth each morning sun.
Every day a new baby sun
my son beat down.
Just like now.


 I AM dairy cow 63
not on a rosy bed
but in a milking shed. And time is running out.
When my milk is dry and my meat is tough
they will push me to the landfill
still kicking.
I will die, slowly,
Again I will become the Celestial Cow.
Mother Eye Seeing All.
I will rejoin my herd
my murdered sons
grazing on milky trails above.
We will wait for machines to pray.
Even now they call back
the Great Flood.
Herds of cows eating, drinking , shitting.
The rainforests die
the icecaps melt
all to make more meat and milk.
When the machines push life
to the ends of the earth
the pastures dry, slowly,
will learn how to pray.
They will look to the heavens
look me full in my eye and beg
for the milk of mercy.

Return to Animal Rights Poetry