Bora born
Death by proxy _
Pre-dawn, the Jandowae abattoir invite
promised all to be a sensory sort of day.
The early start dissed flies before the false dawn
began the horror sequence for sleep deprived
creatures with some real sense of impending doom
the blood smell of last months kill still pressed in air.
A light source floods out through layered mist onto
free standing gums circled in silent witness.
Hard light focused on a kill box picks up a
single onlooker propped on a stock yard rail
there to see how those t-bone steaks he eats most days
begin the journey from hoof to the pub's plate.
It's cold, the cattle muster up in steel chutes
on a one way trip prodded through hell itself.
The hit and miss shotgun blasts to the brain box
spread sheer panic to the rest in line as the
blood letting begins with throats cut, the bleed out
in the crush curdles up the cracker box dawn.
Six of one, half a dozen of the other
sees the cattle off; the sheep their time has come.
Their man made crush straddled by legs, heads ripped back
with necks exposed to the slash of a butcher's
weapon, eyes bulged in wretched white, fear stricken
rage in voice betrays to others what's to come.
The death cult from humanities self-titled
right to slaughter patterns their own destruction.
The sacrifice of animals on ritual
alters, trends to a karmic species jump of
faux enemies conjured up slaughtered in kind
such is the way evil sigil magik moves.
Hells' bells the ease of it all, goats' crushed people
slaughter themselves sacrificed to whatever!
No light vs dark here, seeds need dark to sprout
such is life which complements all there is, the
obfuscation by deception the first d
of four where evil plays it's destructive hand.
All wars are banker's wars, their human cattle
willing proxies to bless their own damnation.
A never ending source of bottom up wealth
transfers power into those hands in hell's kitchen
such are the ways of the diabolical
usurped blood lines, whose spiritual deaths await them.
So it is human will enters stage right with
karmic consequences of our actions mute.
The choices we make support what we do to
ourselves within and without on the good ship
eden in endless spin sailing through space time
the living library too few take time to read.
- O -
© 24th mar 2023 _ Ioan James Daniel
Author's notes are here.
promised all to be a sensory sort of day.
The early start dissed flies before the false dawn
began the horror sequence for sleep deprived
creatures with some real sense of impending doom
the blood smell of last months kill still pressed in air.
A light source floods out through layered mist onto
free standing gums circled in silent witness.
Hard light focused on a kill box picks up a
single onlooker propped on a stock yard rail
there to see how those t-bone steaks he eats most days
begin the journey from hoof to the pub's plate.
It's cold, the cattle muster up in steel chutes
on a one way trip prodded through hell itself.
The hit and miss shotgun blasts to the brain box
spread sheer panic to the rest in line as the
blood letting begins with throats cut, the bleed out
in the crush curdles up the cracker box dawn.
Six of one, half a dozen of the other
sees the cattle off; the sheep their time has come.
Their man made crush straddled by legs, heads ripped back
with necks exposed to the slash of a butcher's
weapon, eyes bulged in wretched white, fear stricken
rage in voice betrays to others what's to come.
The death cult from humanities self-titled
right to slaughter patterns their own destruction.
The sacrifice of animals on ritual
alters, trends to a karmic species jump of
faux enemies conjured up slaughtered in kind
such is the way evil sigil magik moves.
Hells' bells the ease of it all, goats' crushed people
slaughter themselves sacrificed to whatever!
No light vs dark here, seeds need dark to sprout
such is life which complements all there is, the
obfuscation by deception the first d
of four where evil plays it's destructive hand.
All wars are banker's wars, their human cattle
willing proxies to bless their own damnation.
A never ending source of bottom up wealth
transfers power into those hands in hell's kitchen
such are the ways of the diabolical
usurped blood lines, whose spiritual deaths await them.
So it is human will enters stage right with
karmic consequences of our actions mute.
The choices we make support what we do to
ourselves within and without on the good ship
eden in endless spin sailing through space time
the living library too few take time to read.
- O -
© 24th mar 2023 _ Ioan James Daniel
Author's notes are here.
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Death by proxy _
Death by proxy _
