Poetry With A Mission



...a thought provoking poetical exercise.

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Heartless Confinement

They’re kept in a very tiny cage — a prison, in other words,
Incarcerated for life, never to be free like other birds.
And there those poor creatures remain, until finally there they die,
Yes, a cruel and heartless confinement, that no one can justify.

Such is no minor infringement, for it’s acting inhumanely,
And hence why it’s time folk stopped to think, as it’s torture, quite plainly.
It’s simply deriving pleasure from some poor creature’s misery,
In other words, getting amusement callously and tastelessly.

Yes, back and forth they hop each day, for what else can a caged bird do?
It's such a mindless existence, and it's so unnatural too.
I’m sure that it drives them crazy, and it must have some ill effect,
For after all, it’s a form of abuse, that we all should reject.

No bird was ever meant to be caged, but rather, flying freely,
In other words, enjoying their habitat, living naturally.
After all, they’re not toys or ornaments, but living creatures with rights,
Therefore, it’s wrong that their imprisonment amuses and delights.

Not one single creature should be caged, accept where necessary,
And, let me add, nor should humans be imprisoned so barbarically.
Yes, it’s selfish, even sadistic, keeping creatures in a cage,
And should the tables be turned — oh, how loudly we'd holler and rage.

I’m not mincing my words here, am I? And neither should I be, friend,
For caging these innocent creatures is a practice that should end.
How can we who champion freedom, not grant them their freedom too?
For not doing so, is hypocritical, behaviour that’s askew.

So please don’t become the warden of a prison in your own home,
A prison with an inmate who's unable to fly or to roam.
Yes, consider how you would feel, should you be kept in a barred cell,
Simply for someone’s enjoyment, and completely against your will.

By Lance Landall






The following poem contains a couple of Christian comments.


Wrong Is Wrong, Period

Scott and his dog were seldom apart — best of friends — the bond between them very strong,
His pet having the best of masters, given Scott had a deep sense of right and wrong.
Hence the frown showing on his young face, for Scott was feeling very upset within,
His disgust over injustices to creatures most palpable and genuine.

He looked up from what he’d just been reading, his eyes focusing on his dad nearby,
A man who also had a deep sense of right and wrong, and over injustice would sigh.
Scott's voice broke the silence. “I’d love to storm every vivisection laboratory,
Smashing their equipment and cages, and setting all those imprisoned creatures free.”

“Oh, how those poor creatures must suffer so, unable to escape their tormentors,
Their whole life spent being tortured in those evil, pointless, people deceiving centres.
It’s just not right, Dad, it’s terribly inhumane, and it makes me feel so angry,
Which is why I would like to bring an end to it all — that being, immediately!”

“I can understand your feelings, son, I feel the same way as you — yes, just as strongly,
But we mustn't let our feelings — albeit righteous anger — have us acting as wrongly.
Such is a dilemma for Christians, caught between their feelings and God’s path and ways,
But anyone who takes things into their own hands, unwisely and injuriously strays.”

“You see, where does one draw the line, son? We can’t have individual boundaries,
At least not when it comes to something like this, legalized throughout societies.
We’d be breaking the law, and be any law good or bad, it’s not there for us to break,
Hence why despite our feelings, and in the interests of all, the right path we must take.”

“Besides, when we fight fire with fire, we’re acting just as bad as those we’re condemning here,
That is, those vivisectionists torturing millions of creatures year after year.
Two wrongs don’t make a right, son, and never will, for wrong is wrong — it’s that clear cut;
It’s not like you’re going to the aid of a rape victim here — there’s no if or but.”

“A law’s a law, son. Taking things into our own hands is a form of anarchy,
Which only leads to even greater ills and misery within society.
Hence why some end up persecuting others, deludedly thinking that they’ve some right,
Just like those who’re breaking and entering vivisection clinics via day or night.”

I can understand why folk do certain things, even feel a certain sympathy,
And might even feel like doing the same things myself, but that’s not Christianity.
The whole point of Christianity is to act the opposite to offenders,
And certainly not as persecutors, for such are purely Christian pretenders.”

“Isn’t there a difference between bending and breaking rules, Dad, a time and place?”
“Well, son, given what we’re chatting about here, there’s simply no room for breathing space.
Bending rules is as bad as breaking rules, for both show a lack of integrity,
One who’s prepared to forgo the moral high ground when it suits, hypocritically.”

“We can’t have it both ways, either we’re above reproach or we’re not, and if we’re not,
We’re effectively part of the problem, suffering from that same internal rot.
Bending rules, son, is just part and parcel of that “end justifies the means” carry-on,
Which so much mischief in the name of some good has produced, and seen much that’s good gone.”

“We’re not powerless, son. We can use our voices in protest, or pick up a pen,
For most of the greatest good has come about via the pen, and via voices of men.
It’s those who do nothing when they can do something who’re deserving of condemnation,
And who thus share in the guilt of those who’re involved in some kind of abomination.”

“Yes, that’s where it’s at, son, just doing what you can do, legally and morally,
And yes, in the meantime both creatures and humans will suffer, unfortunately.
But that’s life, this sick world we live in, the reality we have to face, sadly,
So just do what you can, son, for such will earn you the right to sleep more peacefully.”

“Thank you, Dad.”  “My pleasure, son.”

By Lance Landall



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