Tuesday, April 27, 2010

a poem followed by a haiku

stuck behind a chicken truck
hostages/prisoners, crammed into cages
their first time seeing sunshine, breathing spring air -
a great day to be slaughtered.
smells like chicken shit and death.

next to a chicken truck,
the oppurtunity to make a pun would be now.
i thought the pun when i was there
staring at the chickens and feeling disgust and sorrow.
3 lines ago i should have made a pun.
a pun would be insensitive now, quite 'fowl'.
oh damn.

passing the chicken truck, 
a bodily fluid spills from the top row of the truck -
piss, shit, vomit, etc.
a deprived existence yields intoxicating smells of death.
the fluid exits the topmost cages accompanied by an ungodly chickeny wretch
it smacks the pavement after gravity has its way with the unidentified viscous mass
sounds like a bucket of liquefied lard poured from 15 feet in the sky onto concrete.

rear-view mirror reflects the chicken truck,
flashback to reels of jews in trains.
it feels like
the chicken holocaust.

i enter the house -
stagnant pools of putrid slime.
death is everywhere.