Farmer Goodman's Busy Day

Morning
Sun ascending
Another clear day
Sunlight pours in,
Slowly filling the room
Of the farmer and his wife
Their quiet dose softly brakes

Time to wake!
To shout,
To work,
To raise the animals-
feed them,
milk them,
care for them,
Kill them.

But Breakfast first
And a hearty one:
Black pudding, scab
Eggs, amniotic juices
And other fine stuff.
Blood spurts onto the farmer's black apron
Li'lle basturd!
The wife chuckles
What a scene.

The day begins
Men are called to the barn
A brief briefing
Then all scatter
Eruption of activity
Money must be made,
So seeds are sown;
Vehicles are fuelled and driven about
Harvests are cultivated

A cow's solitary breast is sucked
By cold, sterile, rubber mouths
The mother thinks 'good, calves'
But the milking machinery is soulless;
The silver brilliance makes her squint
She sees little.
Unnatural, uncomfortable, uncouth.
These cows lives are drained,
Then the "husk" dumped.
'They have their purpose'.
But don't we all?

The lambs are lonely
Enough food, yes
But would humans be happy with just this?
A minuscule pen
Motherless
so many small, innocent, child orphans
"3 year old raped then murdered in brutal attack"
'A Despicably horrendous disgrace! A human life cut so short!'
60 1 year olds taken to be murdered
'They're just animals- dumb, yummy, stupid animals'
Sliced up
Saws scream out ecstatic, hysterical laughter
With their human operators
Both thirsty for infantile blood
It paints the place.
And yet the victims entered smiling, fine
Only a little sickness from the van ride

Nothing more.

More money for the farmer then!
Very good- British farming flourishes still!
Excellent
?
He has finished his hard day
Enough cash-by-killing for today then?
No, my friends. Not for this fine fellow.

The wife prepares the evening meal
The farmer enters
She kisses him, his whiskers bristling her
She chuckles as he growls words into her ear
The beef will be overcooked
He likes his meat tender
Juicy
Blood soaked
Enjoys the odour of the daily cull
The meat is not wasted though-
The dog, he enjoys fresh meat;
No waste there then
Just one animal for another
'Just like in nature'
Though not at all

"Then for afters a bitta whisky-
Finest blend,
12 years matured,
Though only one glass mind yous,
tonight's the 'unt
Wanta be sober for tha'!"

Nighttime
Oh, what a night, too!
So many farmers
Out for a good time
And what better way
Than to pop off a few rounds
At your very own birds
(You would have thought
that one would retain life
if one has responsibility over it,
But not our compassionate heroes,
not them)
Pop, pop, pop
"Cheering
Not allowed
Don't wannuh stir 'em up more'n needs be"
Delight overruns the massacre
Fulfillment through power
'Their birds, why not?'
Boom, BOOM, BOOM!
More and more innocents slaughtered. No reason given,
Just a bit of fun
'It's OK- they're all eaten'
No- very, very few.
Most lie bleeding
Necks broken
Legs shattered by the shots
They couldn't escape
Low intelligence
Though not far off their killers

Ironic
The killers deserve to be killed
Yet only those worthy of life lose it prematurely

It is tragic
It is repugnant
It is what makes the world turn.