I am sorry for what we have done to you
I mourn the loss of your short lives, nullified for our barbaric arrogance and gluttony
Your children taken to meet the same fate as you
Your bodies eviscerated, never knowing the hand of compassion or a ray of sunshine

There are no merciful abattoirs

No red barn with it's open doors, and no motherly blue sky

There is only brutal indifference

Mechanized slaughter

The lies we tell our children and ourselves will breed this hell on earth into our legacy
And we who see ourselves distinct from beasts prove with our actions otherwise

This is not food

This is war on the sanctity of being

Mos Def addict practicing my mathematics
multiplying gross deaths stacking high in my attic
banishing, your batting eyelashes in my hatchet
brandishing a reflection of death nothing can match it,
a packet of matches, three cans of gas am I mad *****?
I’m a man mastering cracks of dark arts from a sad witch,
tears of evil, blasting apart marked hearts, sew they can’t stitch,
so I can cross your eyes and harvest every last inch
of your body I’ve got hauled high with my crass winch.
Dangling like abattoirs meat hanging upside down by your feet,
never is the time that I will retreat,
secreting discreetly in your petite physique,
desecrated secretly I never cease with the heat.
I’m a clever beast with the sweet smile of a pre-school teacher
I’m a leach, I’m an evil preacher,
I’m worse than a priest with someone not quite senior in reach.
I beseech you to keep my smile in mind when I breach
the regular limits of sin, an when the victim begins
spinning within the rhythm of my limb precision
positions a physician would think weren't natural
constructions. Causing concussions with my bone crack percussion
discussing the disgusting repercussions of being obstructive
with a kind as destructive as mine its reductive to imply
that I’m stuck with a mind superior to thine, let the subtleties shine,
you’re an inferior design, obsolete, so the premise is supremacist
there’s no preventing this, the evidence is left in every crevice of the premises.

When the sun slumbered beyond the falling
horizon, a deranged mentor of those it wondered
over below. False expressions were given in tribute
to that which watched with acidic smiles of their  
persecution beneath its gaze.

In its fading they were collected in truest outline.
Negatives of perceived imaginings, pigmentation
descended from form like coloured petals
turning to dust. They were the abattoirs of this
now discoloured imaginings.

Sweetened voices of lullabies were replaced by
disorientated shrills, that reverberated within
the halls, they lumbered in there contorted abodes.
Nesting into corners of despair that blossomed on
them with hues of isolation.

Feasting on warm carcasses, weeping with
trepidation at this momentary freedom they felt.
There home of tattered souls that were cleaved
from prey, no peace in death. They hang at
the windows clinging to lost hope.

Time was a nine tailed mistress that whipped them
into the binding once more. For the arising was upon
them, they were lacerated within colour once more.
All that was flaked away and became as it was.
Smiles on there faces paying tribute to that above.

did we know that today
in 2016 we'd be reading the future
about the Great American
soft
depression interlaced
August 16 with Lehman
Goldman
Sach King David
how this time it will be
different but the bubble
starting
in 1995 always burst
even if its only two years
later Elizabeth Montgomery
died we were joining the Academic Mafia
around Circle Drive
Korean BBQ
Blues Caravan and
cruising around East Los
in a Blue Toyota pickup truck
now
there's a parked Prius
because we're too busy
running
numbers a racket
in Cambridge that leaves us
just a bit of fried egg in the morning
with coffee vorleser-ing and documenting
just
as any moral Hannah would do
in 1939 to say hey this is the way
we wanted right boxcars leading
to abattoirs today we do our best
imitation
of a weak McNamara
mea culpa

It’s just after 5AM but I am up,
Compelled to write and share with you
Bad images
From video and TV.

I gave you a newborn calf being killed by a lion or something.
But there are countless more.
Young seals being swallowed by killer whales.
A young queen bee stabbing its rivals to death before or after they hatch.

An unlucky wildebeest is pushed by a panicked herd
Back into the river
And into the jaws of a crocodile.
Survival of the fittest
Or luckiest.

Animals running about some abattoirs
Trying to escape death.
Fighting for their lives.
Watching their siblings die.
Enter Man.

A groggy man has survived being shot by a firing squad
So a soldier walks up to him
Puts a pistol to his head and fires
So the man falls
Fountains of blood pumping up from his head
To Beatles music.

Rows of orange shirted men kneeling
A hooded man behind each one
With sword ready at the throat…

So many horrors.
No fiction.
I wonder what God thinks….

Paul Butters

what if people had hearts,
and cared for one another deeply,
everyone doing his part
to improve his neighbour's condition completely,
without reward or remuneration,
only love for the entire human population?

what if cows had wings,
and buzzed above abattoirs like bees,
*******—as nectar—the skins
off the bodies of humans, fallen to their knees,
in repentance and commiseration
with the suffering of all living things?

Today, far away from the headlines,
In the distant cover of sand and media oblivion,
A nation is targeting the orphans of forgotten villages,
The average age of the culled population is seventeen.

One of the world’s most advanced military war machines
Is daily incinerating the flowers of a deleted generation,
Whole areas reduced to smoking rubble and jagged bones,
This is a butcher’s paradise where schools are turned into abattoirs.

This genocide has been silenced by the complicit newsrooms,
Those who dare to speak out are condemned as traitors to patriotism,
Politicians and world speakers dance the sermon of inhuman lies,
All the while the children have their lives and dreams bled out of them.

In a hospital that was pulverized by an American gifted missile,
Little two-year old Maha clings to what remains of her fractured life,
Her glazed eyes are circled black like a Panda’s patches
Because shrapnel made a home inside her skull and spine.

Through thousands of storms
Through bitter winds and snow
Through distant foreign lands where few are known to go
Through abattoirs that house rotting flesh and swarming flies
I travel ever forward, for I will not be denied
I'll brave Hades where tortured souls wish for brief respite
Fabled Fields of Elysium? I will not spend a night
I'll be not seduced by pleasure, tarried not by pain
Nothing will deter me
I travel not in vain
So still I journey onward
Through dark valleys where but shadows lie
Through unforgiving deserts
Parched by endless summer sky
I wade through lifeless sloughs that would persuade one to resign
Though not one on a journey of as great import as mine
Beyond the words oft spoken
By those who would be heard
For every word's a prejudice and I will not be deterred
Holy texts and ancient tomes seem to me devices
To make a man forget his way and lure him into vices
And the aftermath of entropy
All creation's derogation
Tells me my journey's at an end
I've reached my destination
Standing face to face with God
I know I'd best not linger
Unto Heaven
I raise my fist
Extending my *******

The city gates are always there
asking nothing while giving less
waiting for the travelers
to pass within as fortunes turn
fate's golden coin awaits a nudge
to consign the occupant
with the flush of happenstance
or the dearth of emptiness

either way the path unfolds
twisting deep into the depth
of the streets paved with gold
or stained red with old blood
these chill options hold no malice
though the odds may bless the house
the pound of flesh will be found
sating gears that must turn

this machine serves all men
equally granting grace's gifts
while the equals are measured by
the meaty hand on the scale's left side
celebrate privilege while you can
accept the praise however faint
because the gods may change their minds
allow the wheel to land on black

the metropolis will survive
a howling gulf beyond entry's way
portal to the heavenly heights
or a quick trip to abattoirs
evoking smiles on stoic masks
fixed attention to piety
city gates bound to luck's draw
receive your due when you intrude.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180625.

it is a tiny tiny thing

they say it is the enemy

and evil



i wonder



when you think how  animals are treated

enslaved, hunted, squashed

& i bet they are glad we are indoors a while



yet it continues as essential

we think we own them

and imprison them



inseminate, take their babies

**** them and eat them as

essential



my mother said

what goes round

comes round



i guess the abattoirs are still open

as essential



it is a tiny tiny thing

hoping to survive

like us

like the coral

like all things