The office of the slaughterhouse
Is the eye of the storm
Peaceful and calm
The office is air conditioned
With a sound system
The air conditioner keeps the stench away
Pre-recorded love song mask the cries of suffering
The paperwork is done in the office
From the office, the bullets are purchased and the killers are rostered
The more kill
The more business generated
Not enough kill?
Excess bullets sold to other slaughterhouses
Sometimes the meat try to retaliate
In such occasions, a risk mitigation plan kicks into action
It includes sedation with a nice meal, drugs, and moving images of freedom on TV
The killers
Some are proud
Some just doing their job
Some are profoundly ashamed
Those who resist
Become the meat
It is an unusual slaughterhouse
At first it was necessity
To cure hunger
Then it was for safety reasons
No one wanted to see meat trying to eat the killers
Now it’s in the name of growth
Factories, smart bombs and planes, cyber wars and nuclear submarines
The business of this slaughterhouse
Is not the meat
It is the violence
War is the loudest concert
Performed in the Theatre of Politics
The crowd is held captive
In a spectacle of violence and hate
They have seen this show before
They need each other to survive
The crew oils the machines
The cast is ready for this show to be their last
When the loudness of war disturbs the resting state of air
It’s best to not say much
Allow the noise pass
The disturbance will ripple through
And my body will ripple too
Music is meaningless if the cacophony has risen to the point that no one can hear you
Listen
For faint melodies of friendship
Expressions of compassion
A bird
When echos of war fade
If I’m lucky to survive
I’m left with a friendly compassionate bird
And ringing in my ear
