Posted by J. Commander on July 12, 2007, 4:48 pm
216.102.9.X
Rodeo
It's increasingly apparent, that to be civilized,
Your only requirement is to be demoralized.
If Cruelty is not present, you're sure to find her twin:
Barbarity's 'round the corner – wearing a human grin.
The Master of Disguises; Evil takes many forms,
So effectively the Devil can hide his horns.
Today, we find our Twins lurking in a corral;
Cruelty sports a Stetson, Barbarity entangles a cow.
* * *
Within the chute, anticipating
Terror-stricken, tremors, unabating
The calf's trepidation only grows
Suddenly, the gate slides aside
Overwhelmed with anxiety, nowhere to hide
She leaves the chute and enters the show
An all-encompassing din; she tries retreating
Her hopes of escape – only fleeting
For her neck is in the grip of a lasso
Her air is cut-off – she's being strangled
She's pulled to the ground, her legs entangled
Imprisoned, surrounded, she's filled with woe
The crowd and the calf, continually screeching
The crowd in exultation, the calf beseeching
The meaning of her life she'd like to know
* * *
Omnipresent cacophony, four wooden walls,
One wall removed to innumerable cat-calls.
Trying to escape the noise, the steer leaves the stall,
And finds himself trapped while the audience is enthralled.
Wondering why he is here instead of a field where he can graze,
He finds himself panicked while he's bulldogged and hazed.
Doesn't he know that this is the latest craze,
To torment innocence until it's senseless and dazed?
Hooves beating, steer bleating, surrounded on both sides,
Sudden impact, skull almost cracked, utter anguish cried,
Pinned down, so much sound, can't move 'though he tried,
An opened eye, sees only the sky, his spirit slowly died.
* * *
Hand chosen for his boldness,
Unwilling to be tamed.
Hearts that hold such coldness,
Harassment is their game.
The bronc held secure,
While he's mounted in the stall.
A spiritual rape to endure,
Viewed by one and all.
The security is removed,
He's shunted to center stage.
He bucks and flays his hooves,
This trespass fuels his rage.
But one horse's fury,
Compared to testosterone-pumped cowboys?
The audience is in no hurry,
To cease their fun and noise.
A fortunate flail,
The assailant now deflected.
Abscond to no avail,
This bronco is infected
With a future devoid of hope,
And a life with no rewards.
Why should he cope,
With nothing to look towards?
* * *
There's no better care than that of a Rancher's: is this a surety?
If ultimately you're leading an animal into a sense of false security?
If you feed and groom, and provide a place to roam,
Then openly abuse, can they call that place a home?
While we torture and goad these creatures, we call it “entertainment,”
But if we perform these acts on our own kind, we'd face imprisonment.
It's American Tradition! That should've been your first clue,
For human enslavement was once an American Tradition too.
Those aforementioned Twins try to mold us as if we're clay,
But it's not impossible to keep Cruelty and Barbarity at bay.
If you have read thus far, I won't tell you what to do,
For you DO possess a conscience; it's up to you to see it through.
J. Commander
Fortuna, CA
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