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Jun 2013
Supposing creatures had a voice,
Would they really say that we could eat them?
Would they really step forward willingly to the abattoir?
Like Lamb to the slaughter…
Or do they too speak profound thoughts?
Could they or could they not,
We may never find out this,
But, surely we must believe they are more
Than just a simple slab of Meat.

Could they think from a new perspective?
Evolve or Die? **** or be Killed?
Could they really want to be sacrificed?
Their deathbed a slab of concrete,
An axe as their executioner,
And a butcher’s as their tomb…
Their only purpose in life nothing more,
Than just a simple slab of Meat.

Should they really see a new lease of life?
Given the freedom of the grassy plains,
Or left picked apart, the bones scattered,
The prime cuts selected, The gristle dumped.
The only purpose as food for a higher being,
The only question on another’s lips.
How much are you willing to pay?
After all…
It’s nothing more,
Than just a simple slab of Meat.

After all is slaughter any different to hunting?
The axe as the fangs, the predator as the executioner,
The prey is the cattle, the wildebeest, and the animal.
The thrill in the chase, but not in the capture,
So why does it end in slaughter?
Surely the prize is a little bit more,
Than just a simple slab of Meat.

We may argue and we may debate,
The civil rights of these animals.
But so many people cannot see,
They think them merely as a meal.
So blind to sight and yet so advanced,
But nobody sees the hidden obliviousness,
For they cannot see animals are more than,
Than just a simple slab of Meat.
Written by
Robert John Pratley  London
(London)   
1.1k
 
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