The Poor Hairless Dog
From the slaughterhouse
A fat butcher shooed away
A poor hairless dog
poem by Asif Andalib
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Moo
I hear a sad cry of a cow from a slaughterhouse.
That echoes and accompanies in my sojourn.
Wherever I go I hear that sad melody.
In Seagull’s shriek and the ferocious waves of the sea,
A child’s cry in the cradle for milk when mother delays the feeding.
A man’s cry when in hungry and a bullet pierce in the battlefield.
The whole life is a shout expressing emotion,
That resembles the poor cow’s moo in the slaughterhouse.
I dedicate this poem to my silent hidden friend Denis. Joe
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Cat's Tale...
it comes back again
i have shooed it away yesterday
it walks on top of the roof
silently it sits there
at noon,
it stares at passersby
when i return from work
it is still there
waiting
i do not know where it comes from
and i do not like it
it is white and does not make any sound at all
i shooed it away still
and has no plan feeding it
there is something disturbing
not about this insistent cat
it's this struggle within, the storms that people do not see
perhaps, this cat
and i will still drive it away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Petrified lamb
The petrified lamb shivered
It wailed in vain
Searching for the herd
He was separated from
But no one was in sight
The poor animal cried all night
The biting cold was hurting him
Tied to a pole near a ramshackle
Meat shop he felt lonely
He was sold to a butcher
By the villager who always
Used to fondle him while grazing
How could he be so cruel
Thought the poor lamb
Even before the butcher came
Customers reached the shop
To buy fresh stock of meat
The poor animal felt
Someone would rescue him
From this precarious predicament
Not knowing the fate in store for him
The butcher came with his son in tow
Sharpened the knife
On a block of stone
Held the poor lamb to the ground
And slit its throat
Fountain of blood
Was on the floor
The lamb struggled
Before lying dead on the ground
Skinned, cleaned and hung
Upside down
Ready for buyers to select
The portions that they
Liked to buy
What a horrible scene
Repeated every day
On poor mute creatures
Who like us
Would like to live
poem by Vijay Menon
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Peach Grove Next To Abbatoir
Next to an abbatoir
grows a peach grove.
The former has screams.
The latter is silent.
The slaughterhouse
stinks of blood and urine
and solid waste.
The peach grove is fragrant.
The slaughterhouse yields
a maximum 1000 pounds an acre of
food.
The peach grove yields in
trilevel agriculture four hundred
fifty thousand pounds an acre.
The slaughterhouse is labor
intensive and causes many worker
injuries and deaths.
The peach tree requires nothing
but a seed beneath dirt. The sun
and rain and mother earth
do the rest.
The slaughterhouse food causes
cancer, heart disease, food
poisoning, kidney failure, arthritis,
food poisoning fatalities.
The peach grove is God-designed.
poem by Saiom Shriver
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Meathook
I went into the butchers
I said wanted wanted wanted some
Meat
Pass
Me some of that steak over there
It looks so
Sweet
I lost my heart to a meathook
That butcher man was some
Lady
He really stole my heart
He hung me up on his meathook
A real piece of
Slaughterhouse art
I lost my heart to a meathook
There's a meathook in my heart
Tearing me all apart
Ripping out my insides
But i just can't get away
I can't leave my
Meathook
Lost my heart to a meathook
Lost my heart to a meathook
Meathook
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The right one bows to the might.
The goat can’t expect mercy from the butcher.
The butcher has no guilt for his act on it.
The weak have necessarily to succumb
To the might, with their right notwithstanding.
24.11.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Who takes my watercolour painting to the Amateur's Art Exhibition?
O the poor hairless brush secretly informs me
That the Horse wants to run away.
I beg you to stay until the Exhibition finishes
And I promise you to make a better stable
If I win the first prize!
Let stay together for sometimes
And I am sure that you have a bright future.
Still if your intension is to run away?
Then I am sorry as I cannot stop
And I give you wings!
[To the poets Pranab K Chakraborty and Yoonoos Peerbocus.]
*Arrange whatever pieces come your way.
-Woolf
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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To A Cow In Mourning
It aches my heart to hear you mourn poor cow
And i would help you if i could somehow
But only God can resurrect your son
Who has fallen victim of the butcher's gun.
You've mourned since afternoon of saturday
When men from you took fatted calf away
And since saturday all but five days ago
You've lived beneath a cloud of grief and woe.
Your mournful bellows tell of painful ache
In heart that must be very near to break
And the forlorn face and the sad eyed look that tell
Of creature who has lived four days of hell.
Today a wealthy Townman sit and eat
And masticate your offspring's tender meat
And say to wife 'darling the meat taste nice'
It's prime beef like this make meat seem worth it's price.
And your farmer owner he doesn't even care
Of the grief that pains you he seem unaware
He doesn't feel moved by bovine moans or tears
And your mournful bellows fall on heedles ears.
But the only cure for grief and dismal pine
Is the proven and the age old healer time
And time poor cow will help make you forget
That son you loved whom butcher shot to death.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Didn't He Ramble
Didn't he ramble.... he rambled
Rambled all around.... in and out of town
Didn't he ramble....didn't he ramble
He rambled till the butcher cut him down
His feet was in the market place..his head was in the street
Lady pass him by, said..look at the market meat
He grabbed her pocket book..and said i wish you well
She pulled out a forty-five..said i'm head of personnel
Didn't he ramble...i said he rambled
Rambled all around...in and out of town
Didn't he ramble...oh didn't he ramble
He rambled till the butcher shot him down
(instrumental break)
He slipped into the cat house..made love to the stable
Madam caught him cold..said i'll pay you when i be able
Six months had passed ..and she stood all she could stand
She said buddy when i'm through with you
Ole groundhog gonna be shakin yo' hand
And didn't he ramble...he rambled
Rambled all around...in and out of town
Oh didn't he ramble......he rambled
You know he rambled...till the butcher...cut him down
I said he rambled..lord...'till the butcher shot him down
song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Catch The Man
Catch the man who escapes for something,
His entrance to the jaws of life conveys nothing;
Might and power betrays the worker in outer life,
Mastered knowledge is the reality.
Caught in the act, a dog and man are the same,
The thief surpasses a butcher, but does the thief
Also butcher the one who is in his way,
The one in the way of success and prosperous conversation?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Hearts are frozen.
An elephant cannot expect mercy
For life from a poacher aiming at it.
A buffalo cannot expect mercy
For life from a butcher about to kill.
Poor patients cannot expect mercy
For billing from a popular surgeon.
Poor people cannot expect mercy
For charging from any professional.
The global warming melts the glazier.
The modern living freezes human hearts.
08.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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When the ox is at the slaughterhouse everyone comes running with their knives.
Butcher Boosted
Why do they flock,
To have their meat...
Stripped clean of fat?
And who is that selected...
To do just that?
This butcher boosted,
Is preferred!
And slices exactly what is wished.
To rid them of maggots leeching.
And feed to them a diet to feast...
With an increased desire,
To eat from a substance...
More nutritiously dished!
Without those promises of expectations...
That have left them with tastebuds,
Long on delusion!
And not fed with sensations demanded.
This butcher boosted...
Openly will command,
With an exposed and uncloaked hand...
Those who witness the slicing that is done,
Will come to understand!
This butcher boosted is no joke.
And each stroke is meant,
To rid them from all deceptions hidden.
And qualified are the intentions made...
To open all eyes along the way!
'There is no fat on this cat's back!
Down to basics.
With an eye on facts.
Delivered and received!
To nourish a return of reality believed.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Yes, Data is hairless but I am not. And we are both anatomically correct.
quote by Brent Spiner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How nice--to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.
Kurt Vonnegut in Slaughterhouse-Five
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'd rather get my brains blown out in the wild than wait in terror at the slaughterhouse.
quote by Craig Volk
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The birth of kittens
are an incredible sight.
Hairless lil creatures.
Hollywood Holiday
I rode my motorcycle through a watermelon patch
Right on the california freeway
I took my holy Bible on my blessed boogie woogie drive
Cause I know I know I know
Where I go oh lord theyre gonna bless me jive
Poor you poor me
Poor everybody who buy to be
Poor me poor you
Poor everybody who die to do
I parked my motorcycle on hollywood and vine
And sang till my red blood turned boiling blue
I took my sole survival and bore my cross on a string
Cause I know I know I know
What I dear I bear my charm to king
Poor you poor me
Poor everybody who buy to be
Poor me poor you
Poor everybody who die to do
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I didn't want to be greedy. It's a mark of bad character and I always believed that pigs go the slaughterhouse.
quote by Walter Annenberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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