Driven to Slaughter (CTG)

[Christopher T. George]

Warning: This poem is about the revelations about the abuse of animals in a California slaughterhouse discussed in a recent undercover report. If you are disturbed by such ideas and images, read no further.

Driven to Slaughter

Because the drowned cows refuse to walk
to slaughter willingly, workers use
forklifts to force them onward for
inspection: creatures who can't refuse

to become hamburgers or rump steak.
The cows are going to die anyway,
so what's it matter? The plant workers take
out their anger in such ways: the animals' day

is done -- this is the frustration they'd spend
on wives, sons, daughters. What the fuck.
A lash across a kid's buttocks, a fist
in the lil lady's jaw: domination of the weak.

So why not stab the cow in her eyes, shock
her again and again with an electric prod?
It's meat for your plate, friend, burger for
schools, wages well made. Pal, what's so odd?

Christopher T. George

Washington Post report with undercover video (warning: graphic images).

[jimbo]

Im vegetarian

[Christopher T. George]

Im vegetarian

Thanks, jimbo. Given the circumstances, understandable.

Chris

[jimbo]

but was'nt always.....................

[lizzytysh]

I heard this same report, Chris. Heard it on NPR. I'll probably look at the footage later, but not tonite. It's not that I'm squeamish. I just take it all too personally. Very interesting, and I feel accurate, alignment and juxtapositions you made with the violence of it. Powerful.


~ Lizzy

[jimbo]

Powerful...............

[Christopher T. George]

Thanks, Lizzy and Jimbo.

Chris

[Cate]

Hi Chris -

First - Your Poem

Did you mean to say drowned or downed?

Your language is blunt and effective. You pull us in right from the beginning with a shocking image and keep us there. You let us peek into the minds of these desensitized workers – the justification for such cruelties, the harsh lives led. The best though is how you bring it back to us – that meat on our own family’s plate. It’s amazing what we’re willing to overlook if it’s of some benefit or pleasure to ourselves.

The video

I wonder how many people watched that video, then sat down to discuss those horrible men all the while consuming questionable meat that came to them from a similar facility. How essential food is to our bodies, yet how little we think about or care where it comes from.

[Red Poppy]

Chris
I worked very briefly (two days) in a slaughter-house in 1979 and have been a vegetarian ever since.
The video to which you provide the link is ...sickening in the sense that it needs to be seen.Thanks for that link.

Reading your poem brought me back to John Clare's powerful poem Badger, written more than a century and a half ago:

Badger


When midnight comes a host of dogs and men
Go out and track the badger to his den,
And put a sack within the hole, and lie
Till the old grunting badger passes by.
He comes an hears - they let the strongest loose.
The old fox gears the noise and drops the goose.
The poacher shoots and hurries from the cry,
And the old hare half wounded buzzes by.
They get a forked stick to bear him down
And clap the dogs and take him to the town,
And bait him all the day with many dogs,
And laugh and shout and fright the scampering hogs.
He runs along and bites at all he meets:
They shout and hollo down the noisy streets.

He turns about to face the loud uproar
And drives the rebels to their very door.
The frequent stone is hurled where'er they go;
When badgers fight, then everyone's a foe.
The dogs are clapped and urged to join the fray'
The badger turns and drives them all away.
Though scarcely half as big, demure and small,
He fights with dogs for hours and beats them all.
The heavy mastiff, savage in the fray,
Lies down and licks his feet and turns away.
The bulldog knows his match and waxes cold,
The badger grins and never leaves his hold.
He drives the crowd and follows at their heels
And bites them through - the drunkard swears and reels

The frighted women take the boys away,
The blackguard laughs and hurries on the fray.
He tries to reach the woods, and awkward race,
But sticks and cudgels quickly stop the chase.
He turns again and drives the noisy crowd
And beats the many dogs in noises loud.
He drives away and beats them every one,
And then they loose them all and set them on.
He falls as dead and kicked by boys and men,
Then starts and grins and drives the crowd again;
Till kicked and torn and beaten out he lies
And leaves his hold and crackles, groans, and dies.

John Clare

[carol-ann]

It is easy to demonize those who work in abattoirs but they are also victims of a much wider system. They are not the ones with money or power to change things. If these people could choose where they wanted to work they would in most cases choose another type of work. They will also have constant pressures on them to fill quotas and work faster or lose this job that it is their livelihood. It's like blaming the young girl at the McDonald's counter because your burger tastes like shit.

[Red Poppy]

I take your point Carol Ann, the ultimate responsibility lies with the consumer and with the owners. But the worker has a responsibility to behave in a humane way him/herself. It brings us right back to the old "I was just following orders" line - and we know where that can lead.