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From beasts we scorn as soulless,

In forest, field and den,

The cry goes up to witness,

The soullessness of men.

M. Frida Hartley

I've Seen You in the Meat Aisle

~ by Emma Murphy

I've seen you in the meat aisle,

Seen you choosing who to eat,

Eyeing up their body parts

In rows all nice and neat.

I've seen you grabbing bottled milk

That wasn't made for you

And I know you never think about

The suffering they knew.

I've watched your fill your trolley up

With misery and pain,

Eggs and cheese, a leg, a wing,

My heart just broke again.

You say I should respect your choice,

That it's your right to choose,

Well, legally perhaps you win,

But morally, you lose.

I don't know how you do it

But you close your ears and eyes

To the slaughterhouse, the blood and screams,

Their fear, despair and cries.

It doesn't even cross your mind,

You bite and drink and chew,

And you keep yourself from knowing

That they died because of you.

So no, I don't respect your choice,

There's no respect from me.

You are putting in your stomach

Someone you refuse to see.

The animals, they have no voice,

Convenient for you,

But have a heart and look at those

Who lost their lives for you.

We are the living graves of murdered beasts,

Slaughtered to satisfy our appetites.

We never pause to wonder at our feasts,

If animals, like men, can possibly have rights.

We pray on Sundays that we may have light,

To guide our footsteps on the path we tread.

We're sick of war, we do not want to fight -

The thought of it now fills our hearts with dread,

And yet - we gorge ourselves upon the dead.

Like carrion crows, we live and feed on meat.

Regardless of  the suffering and pain

We cause by doing so, if thus we treat

Defensless animals for sport or gain,

How can we hope in this world to attain

The peace we say we are so anxious for.

We pray for it, o'er hecatombs of slain,

To God, while outraging the moral law.

Thus cruelty begets its offspring - war.

George Bernard Shaw

Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man

wrong; And as the butcher takes away the calf

And binds the wretch, and beats him when he

strays, Bearing him to the bloody slaughter-

house, Even so remorseless have they borne him

hence; And as the dam runs lowing up and

down, Looking the way her harmless young

went, And can do nought but wail

her darling's loss.

William Shakespeare

Anything with a face I don't taste.

Anything with an eye or two I don't chew.

Anything with a mouth stays out of my mouth.

Will.i.am