Perhaps a little more salt next time?
He took them off the street
Like they were nothing but his meat
It did not matter if their eyes were green brown or blue
He just wanted tender and new
He had a cage in his basement where he´d keep them fed
They knew their destiny without the words actually being said
For all around them hung hooks and sharpened knives lay on tables
Bare light bulbs hanging from dirty old cables
He never spoke just pointed and shoved
There stood a man who had never cared or ever loved
His heart like the cold grey stone floor
Stained from his many crimes before
To him they were animals nothing more
As he grabbed one naked kicking and screaming from out the cage door
He pulled as handfuls of hair were ripped
He lifted and reached as the shiny hook gripped
While it screamed and squealed in pain like a hog
He stroked its hair as if it were a dog
Then sliced its throat from ear to ear
Its face now frozen dying slowly in fear
He crossed to the table and took a new knife
This one was for slicing not for taking a life
Slowly and skilfully he carved at its chest
He liked that cut from all the rest
Upstairs in his kitchen a frying pan herbs and oil
A little time in the oven the rest in his fridge wrapped in foil
He sat at his table opening expensive wine
Now he´d hunted it was time to dine!
-------------------------------------
© M.Withers/M.Strudwick . All rights reserved.
Both the name The EriduSerpent/EriduSerpent
and any written material is owned solely by the above named.
Permission granted for all written material to be shared but not for profit.
Printing or publishing is prohibited without seeking permission first from said owner.