Transcend- A Poem by Julie Catona

Good morning all my friends-

whether we’ve met within our circle, virtual or kin.

A good morning if you’re reading this then,

your apart of the percent of class who could move mountains if ask-

yet believing you can’t.

We can agree you have the means to amend-

“but what do you mean there’s a need to transcend?”

My friend, there are mad-men that we must apprehend.

Not just one,

there is an army of them-

a farming of sense-

whose charming defense

has disarmed our senses without the slightest offense.

They feed ideals of barbaric past traditions, meals that are injected with

infected vast transmission of diseases.

All with your permission, in fact, if I may-

you keep the lights on.

 By its very definition your position is at their right arm-with ammunition,

ready to sacrifice your own life by volition.

You are their sole heir to the throne,

yet they swear you’re declared clean from the bone.

Stripped clean of the known,

amnesty from their unspeakable crime,

a family of brutality & lies is their home.

Time to see and stand up straight-

back bones now in atrophy,

our humanity is at stake!

Can’t you see the scales are now tipping, scales peeling

off your eyes….? Wait..

I do not meant to shake blame, but these mad-men walk among us,

you set out the

plates for them-

bake for them

and wash it all down with a milkshake for them.

Oh these mad-men are quite clever, because they make the packages so clean-

mistake them for earthly goods- something you’re endowed to, now routine.

You’ve earned it,

you’re human,

you’re shroud of Godly ruins-

they’re beneath you,

so it’s continues.

In rhythmic gesticulation sounds clamoring,

as history repeats in an incarnation of burial manufacturing.

Unlearn what you’ve been programmed,

wake-up from your sedation.

I’m calling this a holocaust and no,

I’m not exaggerating.

We’ve evolved from nomads in fur drabs, to Burberry bags clad leather and sacks-

money buys torture, it’s as simple as that.

How we can condone the murder of calves

yet we coddle the cat-

but that “protein” but that “taste” is what’s important in fact.

And I’m not talking what’s “trending” and “fad”-

those mad-men know how to advertise to the mass.

I pray you heed warning and don’t fallow their cast shadow.

I know that grandma might’ve made that steak, fried chicken & baked flesh,

but all it did was hide that raw taste.

That “AWWW” face,

if for a second you bother to change places-

to a fully conscious being that’s smarter than your toddler, face it.

And so the plot thickens, “we are better than them” is precisely when the mad-men make

slaves of us then.

We are no lions or wolves as if hunting the beasts-

we torture sentient creatures- why?

For they fall to our feet,

dance from our whip, do our every bidding

whilst they wallow in shit.

All because for just a moment,  we can swallow the tip-

of the iceberg,

because the rest wouldn’t  fit.

Oh those mad-men know us best as if they were wearing our skin.

Now shed it if you will,

You Must, there’s no choice

Speak for the ones,

Who have not a voice.

This poem is dedicated to all those earthly beings who suffer

Stand Up to End Animal Cruelty!

Beings of Earth United as One