Short Abattoir Poems

A cow was awaiting its doom
In a barn with so little room
Her very last fart
Was a pistol start
And the abattoir went ka-boom!...

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That day you said “No”
I was skinned alive
on the abattoir of rejection
bleeding my heart has been
agony burns as flames
of hell set loose on me...

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Life the abattoir of emotions,
     create the corps that is the heart.
What donnybrook takes the tole?
Empathy, the vicarious plight,
     direct the cruel incorrigible start....

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They built an abattoir for man                      
In the heart of the land                          
Where rythm of catridges played ballad      
To hapless P.O.W. of the ballot....

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photograph is a dead being
placed on death bed of paper
by every  business murderer
using camera as the sword
operating in studio abattoir
on people who choose to die
to see themselves dead alive...

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As I ascend the stairs to my waiting boudoir
I expel these loud gaseous emissions just like a car
Is it the rarefied atmosphere
More likely what I ate I do fear
Must lay off the beans, it smells like an abattoir...

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you put your silks and satins 
in me, a darkened abattoir
I see your pain, a summer crisis
staring sometimes for minutes
it's a love hate relationship
it's a love hate hall of mirrors
lost in dirty bone catacombs
I wait for your return...

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As I ascend the stairs to my waiting boudoir
I expel these loud gaseous emissions just like a car
Is it the rarefied atmosphere
More likely what I eat I fear
Must lay off the beans, it smells like an abattoir


© Jack Ellison 2015...

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Bessie the cow
a prizewinning specimen,
has sadly relinquished
her gold rosette

Ruby red ribbons
of congealing blood
coat the floor
of the abattoir

The silly cow
ignored the bull,
farmer Fred’s freezer
will be full!

Ribbon Contest
Sponsored By Line Gauthier

3/25/19...

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A bacchanal cachexic by right 
Gnathonic felicificative zoetic
Juxtaposition to inculpate yaff
Hysteresis ellipsis languescent.

Wyrd querimonious tenebrose
To rusticate palladian malison?
Dealbation kleptomania usitative
Sanguineous abattoir in nihilism.

Obsecrate vesuciate xerophytic
So that existence may evolve!...

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the voices of victim...unbelieved tales of wise ones claiming sovereign,

the vision of the stone,the mile long tale of existences and how they came to be fabled...

music catching the eye which holds the flame and the ear which is dear to the heart.

We are the sheep comfortable in the abattoir.

The pages in blue text that spoke of past to future children of destruction.

The soft voices of dour faced martyrs...The forgotten...

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dear Lord save me from evil men
the bullet bait and snare,
save me from being caged
or confined for men to stare.

save me from the abattoir
or from the skinners knife,
and the plunging dagger
that would take away my life.

They takeaway my habitat
and hunt me when they can,
they destroy my offspring,
and take pleasure in the hunt.

and still they kill each other
with rocket bomb and shell,
send them retribution lord
and let them rot in hell....

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The royal sport 

A racehorse died
it had given more
then its heart could endure.
Many racehorses die
every year
the difference with this horse
its trainer 
sat on the dead horse 
and smiled.
But horses like racing,
true but at its own pace
not made to run faster than it can
But the British are animal lovers
unquestionable, 
but they love betting more.
Racing horses 
is a commodity
if they can´t take the pace and win
the abattoir 
is the final stop...

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