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A slab of flesh so grotesquely desired

Drowning in grease, not advised or required

Clogging the arteries, clearly a vice

But the non-human victim pays the real price.


Without anesthesia, as babies they’re maimed

Billions of beings, unique but unnamed

Bodies imprisoned, minds that go mad

Severely they suffer, so intensively sad.


Like 3-year old humans, alert and aware

Of stifling indifference so thick in the air

Their only release, a torturous end

They’ll never know freedom or the warmth of a friend.


Throats will be slit, blood will be spattered

Consciously boiled, but what does it matter?

Who mourns the loss of each innocent soul?

When misery makes such a great bacon bowl!


Who cares that you pay to put others through hell?

Sizzling sorrow has such a nice smell!

So what if each piece causes torment and pain

There are lives to be lost and diseases to gain!


Each slice of bacon costs more than you think

It belonged to a playful little bundle of pink

With a curious demeanor and a sweet, squishy snout

They’re the who, not the what, this poem’s really about.


With silent persistence you patiently wait

On your intricate world spun of silk

Sensing a quiver so swiftly you scramble

You’ve snared your next victim to milk.

A creature so hated but also revered

Without you we wouldn’t exist

Crops wouldn’t flourish, famine would spread

Disease would prevail and persist.

A dominant predator whose presence is vital

To preserve the health of this sphere

A functional artist, a formidable ally

A being to admire, not fear.

Place faith in facts, not superstition 

We dread what we don’t comprehend

It’s important to share space compassionately

With our incredible 8 legged friends.

Eyes of a Pig

Deep baby blues
Such vast seas of sorrow
They’ve never seen mercy
And they won’t see tomorrow.
Frantically searching 
For a shred of relief 
From continual torment
And perpetual grief.

They puncture my heart
And bleed my eyes dry
Almost-human eyes haunt me
Asking me why
Begging for kindness
Some semblance of grace
A sweet, hopeful gaze 
On each innocent face.

I offer them water 
A stroke on the snout
They silently question
If I’ll let them all out
Their senses are heightened 
Each sound, each new smell
Since all of their lives
They’ve been locked inside hell.

They are promised through tears
As the semi departs
I’ll continue the struggle
Changing minds, touching hearts
Your beautiful blues
Will become a clear voice 
Pleading please
Make the compassionate choice

Bearing Witness

Anonymous at birth

Anonymous at death

You’re a piece, a part, a unit

A number with a breath.

A unique personality

With one common name

And tangible feelings

No two the same.

Few will ever meet you

Or mourn your tragic end

You never had an ally

You never had a friend.

Through portholes in the metal

Our somber eyes unite

We promise you through silent tears

We won’t give up our fight.

We try our best to comfort you

Your dignity embraced

Through photographs we’re changing hearts

With each angelic face.

To us you weren’t an object

And although your soul’s departed

We refuse to let compassion die

The ripple’s only started.

The Plea

Near an overturned trailer, wheels still in motion
Feathers surf wind like the waves of an ocean
Dipping and dancing a soft pirouette
Gracefully pleading, “Please don’t forget.”

Don’t overlook the lives that were lost
Don’t undervalue what apathy cost
Don’t close your hearts to the pain we endured
To our dismal existence, the cries no one heard.

Wheels now at rest, the cleanup crew arrives
No one speaks about beings, no one talks about lives
How much money was spent? How much money was lost?
Can the truck be repaired? How much will it cost?

“No one was injured,” the reporters all say
Just a huge “inconvenience” to commuters today
Not one single mention, no compassionate words
Are spoken in honor of 200 birds
Bodies casually scraped off the road where they lay
Treated like garbage and thrown away.

The cleanup now done, there is almost no trace
But the wind wants an encore and picks up the pace
White plumage performs one last pirouette
As if to implore, “Please never forget.” 

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