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Carl D'Souza Jul 21
I just watched a mini-documentary
on pig factory farming using
extreme confinement of individual pigs
in ‘gestation crates’:
I saw each poor pig
trapped within metal box-grates
which pressed against their flesh
stopping the pig from turning around
stopping the pig from walking around,
each pig suffers their whole life
standing in one direction
or slumped down on the ***** floor.
I saw pigs with open wounds, pressure sores, infections,
bleeding gums from biting the metal bars.
I saw pigs screaming in distress
Or suffering slumped down depressed.
I saw trapped pigs going mad
banging on the metal grates
distressedly trying to break free
and failing and slumping down depressed.

I ask myself
is there a humane way
to farm animals?
Such as free-range farming?
A baker on our street could not bake,
He could only fish in the nearby rivers and lake,
Mum bought his bakery,
He bought our old fish factory,
Both are happy for God's sake.
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
When I first passed the gates
into the metallic garden
stamping out seeds
                      for the junkyard
with its infinite cardiac output

I gazed upon the eyes of the creatures
that inhabited this oily soil
                            of steel and chemicals
all I saw was a cry for help
to escape
          to be away
                just one day
they cry, just one day

I got caught in the claws
and it scratched
                       and scratched
the wounds heal but the scars stay

I have become a trapped animal
                                     with eyes of dismay

There's little chance of escape
I can dream
           I can pray
one day, I echo
               one day

Now I am just taxidermy
for this godforsaken industry
and they call this
J May 2018
Brown, peeling rubber soles on big feet
Crunch crunch, the gravel and glass goes underfoot
The overcast gloom of the early morning.
Depressed and downhearted buildings lining the streets.
Weeds encircling the gardens like a dragon looming over its prey.
Flowers hanging their heads, gravely.

Smudged faces, dark purple eyes, gaunt complexion, another restless night for these children.
Bruises up and down each leg.
Trodden, broken. “Not good enough” ringing in their ears.
Dreary faces, ripped uniforms.

The school building silhouetted against the grey, emotionless sky.
“Line up in rows, nice and neat”
They would hear this repeated for the rest of their lives.
A zebra crossing worn and battered.

Cigarettes passed from frail, wrinkled, hopeless hands.
Hooked on 4 a day at the age of 13
The wind groaned through the yard.
Somber faces, with wide eyes awaiting an education.

Pale arms and legs bristling in the playground.
Teachers thinking the sun has set on their dreams.
The corporations rubbing their hands, stamping their boots.
Another day at school now, but do they have a future?
Aa Harvey May 2018
Working 9 to 5

The constant rumble of the fans above my head,
That cool me down, so I don't feel too tired.
The crashing bangs, of heavy metal things,
As the machines continue to work,
To produce metal sheets.

The thunderous press machine,
Thumps another piece of metal,
As the production line keeps moving,
Full of different people.
Each of them standing, in their own specific spot;
Capable of breaking the chain,
If one of them is gone.

So just hang your metal onto the track;
The thing that made me quit before, but I came back.
And now here I am, stronger and wiser,
Better than before;
Now they've offered me the job full time.

But I know, I can do better than this,
For I wish to be a poet, an author and a lyricist.
I just keep looking at the clock,
Waiting for another minute to pass.
****!  I'm sure it's stopped;
I've surely been here longer than that.
No; it's just because,
I'm not using my head
And thinking to make time pass quicker
And not just waiting for it to be 10.

At last!  It's here, we all give a silent cheer,
Or a sigh of relief, that the day is done.
At last, now we can all go home.

(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
a man
in his
cerulean fit
always flight
his fascination
there with
his striped
shirt clean
that wimples
shall lie
in bed
with asters
attached in
beanie caps
today tonight
& tomorrow
in bloom
university town
jorn christopher Feb 2018
Revolution institution
Gather up the calvary
Empty glasses for the masses
Raised in unity

From the fires, cue the choirs
Sing a hymn of suffering
Generation desperation
As the angels sing

Don't you know?
You can't let go
Cause it's so hard to say goodbye
To what we dim the lights for
Killing truth with lies we die for

Programming emotion
Manufacturing our lives
We are the products of
An over-processed love
That is chemically defined

Cheaper, faster
Blood and plaster
Heart-pumping machinery
Gears and veins
Rewired brains with
Television dreams

Burning engines
Fueled by tensions
Apprehension industry
Mutilation of salvation
As the angels scream

Don't you know?
You can't let go
Cause it's so hard to say goodbye
To what we dim the lights for
Killing truth with lies we die for

Programming emotion
Manufacturing our lives
We are the products of
An over-processed love
That is chemically defined
Self vs. Nature vs. Nurture: Eternal conflict of the thoughtless mind. Mass produced, quantifiable identities that wage war against themselves. All sales are final.
nick armbrister Feb 2018
Burn baby and give me some sulphuric hydrochloric acid smoke,
your fire gives me toasted tiktox and crisps me up nicely.
Boom goes the roof when 55 gallon drums go flying and it’s all ballistic.
The money shot is when the boss’s office goes up like a frigging rocket.
He was sat at his desk and went to the moon.
Chemical Ali won’t be coming back anytime soon.
Question is where is his ten million dollar profit?
Was it hidden in an empty oil drum on a pallet of dangerous chemicals?
All the factory is ablaze, three workers died and two were injured.
They should have got blood money for working there,
no risk to life was greater and no boss more meaner.
As flames reach a hundred feet and smoke a mile in the sky,
hindsight is way too late.
JM Romig Jun 2017
Sort through it all
a box for the good
a bin for the bad.

Set the boxes in order
in a safe space
on a high shelf
in the back room,
in a spot you will remember
for when you need to remember.

Make your space Shine
sweep the dirt away
replace what is broken
scrub the years off of what isn’t

Standardize this practice:
Every day find a way
to sort, set, and shine.
This is how you Sustain yourself.
There's a practice in factories called "Five S" which is this whole thing for keeping your workstation tidy. I always felt like it sounded like some guided meditation health guru mantra.
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