Who am I?Why am I soulless yet undead?
Out on a limb, My senses obscure, obliterated like an "Udjat ripped".
Haunting is the stench of Blood, Incessant lesion, Hollos of dread,
A clenching numbness evades, as My existence fades with each deceased.
Kins of Mine reflect, in My wary eyes urging to "Sleep",
Kins worn out, seeking "Eternal Rest",
Beasts of blood and flesh, made to creep,
To hominid bestiality, at the Crest.
Kins of Mine, every minute They die,
Limping matted sore and wry,
As the bizarre ogres cease and kill,
Bit by bit breaking Their will.
No shelters not a shadow to hide,
No retreats to retreat, the hunters everywhere they bide.
Bones crushed, flesh churned,
Feel I with my kins, every second in pain They burned.
Sometimes for trade sometimes for grub,
Their pride shredded, nothing left, not a stub.
Skinned mercilessly, chunks pruned, bled Kins of Mine ,
Restless, upon them the butcher's
knife would glide.
Nature challenged by human intelligence, wild tranquility shattering,
Impaired of speech, The Mighty rendered spineless,
My kins, weaker, preyed by sadists , relentless,
Cornered to the extreme, by monstrous abuse and dissing.
Poisoned, incinerated, stoned for pleasure,
Homeless and alone, deserted some wander,
Knowing not, friend from foe,
Fearing love, afraid to trust, which could ease their woe.
For all the infliction they sustain,
Insurrection should they restrain?
Is it that they don't or is it that they can't?
Shall this be their fate?It shldn't .
Are We mere Blood banks, drying to quench the wanton bloodlust?
How long till, will this discrimination last?
Hides, Claws, Tusks, Feathers,
All assets ceased, Ah My whole being tithers,
What is left? But humiliation and shattered pride,
"Man eaters" they call Us, can't We even deride?
I am the unheard spirit,of the mute and dumb, who am I?
What does it matter, when I live, and watch them die?
To see, the man mocking at the Staggering Lamb Of Sacrifice,
Driven into an abyss of hunger, only peace can suffice?
Alas My sweet dream,
from which I must wake,
For a little hope of peace, no union I seek,
Which now, I'm too well aware to not, as a "Will-come-true", mistake ,
For it has become a dream, I can only ever dream.
-------------- THE END --------------
READER'S NOTE-
This poem is dedicated to every speechless victim of zoosadism(abuse of nonhuman beings), a tribute to the mortified, brutally abused animals who are unable to testify, to fend for themselves. Illegal poaching and animal trade are some serious issues concerning animal abuse. Wild exotic animals are hunted down nearly or to direct extinction for the only assets they possess.
When cornered they react in rebellion. But then why are they suppressed.Isn't an animals life a life too?What value does it hold to humans?
This poem deals with the sacrifice of the innocent
animals for the satisfaction of human needs, the existing discrimination in which animals are ultimately subjugated . Their pride lies in their asset that is their being, which is constantly robbed off by humans. I wish to convey to every human being out there to foster sympathy respect and tolerance towards the animals to lead a life of peaceful coexistence with the animals, in their respective territories, achieving a union of love and trust.
"DONT MAKE THIS DREAM A DREAM, I CAN ONLY DREAM"-SPIRIT OF MUTE AND DUMB.
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Fantasia
PoetryA nexus of emotions, like paint mingling, become an art and with a frantic flow of words, like the mischevious flurry of notes from the unrestrained 'Fantasia', imagination lands in a world of phantasmagoria. Each stroke should deliver a gust of emo...
