Friday, June 7, 2013

MEAT MARKET - 3 poems



Battered, Butchered, Bagged and Bought

The Age of Innocence has come and passed
♫The Innocents can never last♫
They speak too much too soon
Or too little too late
And once again fail
In their race against the Fates
Words fail thoughts flail
In the face of opposition
That they have created
From their timidity
Mortally wounded from having been bled
Of self-worth for so long
And mostly from having been struck
By their own decency
Now a weapon in the hands of the opposition
They withdraw yet again
To die, again


The best cuts of meat fetch the highest price but the meat don’t know
And who are you in this bazaar of butchers and buyers and meat?
Do you know?
If you cannot locate a pulse or a teardrop or a fighting spirit
Any one of them, you’ve got to really look into it
Perhaps with eyes you haven’t opened yet
If you own all three in good measure
Perhaps you have a job to do
One you have very likely never thought of putting your name to
Look past the filth and flies and dead spirits
It’s spelled out for you
Perhaps in blood
Perhaps in an ugly kind of writing on the wall
If you can find it in yourself to read
That which is so horrific
You would rather never know
Be assured in every crisis
Lies the seed of something good




The finest cuts of meat have been unwrapped
They sit on the cutting board
A large chef’s knife will be guided
Through the pieces of meat
Across the grain if you want it tender
Along if you want it tough
There are herbs that go well with lamb
But there are others that do better with horse
Know thy meat

Know when to get the fryer out
And when the pressure cooker
And know when it’s done
And when it’s an ugly undercooked
And never ever overcook anything
Honor your creation with the finest china and silverware
Light a candle or two
Say a little prayer before you dig into
Your beefcake or your lamb riposte

                                                                                                                    - SDG

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