A Fate Replaced Upon The Plate Poem by Lance Uppercutt

We the little
We the meat
We the metal

No names for our faces
Bitten tongue on their time
Numbers representing our places
Nauseous and angry of a taste so unkind

The constant whip of threat
The controlled employ we need
Held over us to ever remind
We need it more than it needs we

Anxiety is the grip
On prescribed societal dream
Apply grease for the slip
Being preached our effort is of team

Or the sprocket may chip a tooth
Inevitably breaking many more
Revealing a grinding truth
In metal shards covering the floor

To distance from our appearance
Of which we assumed when born
Only recognized by the elements
The composition of our base form

A flaw one of maintenance
Of renewed application
Having need brings replacement
Levied by the ethically vacant

The new part that replaces
Brings to bare nothing new
Lack of human exposed the old
In due time the new will too

Begging questions of ease
Turning a wrench in space confined
Or spreading the replacement grease
When burdened by cost and replacement takes time

The real mistake made
Is ours of flawed form
The mistake of being human
The blessed mistake from which we are born!

We head of cattle
Champion or diseased breed
All the same a slab of meat
Made from same sun and same seed

And to nourish this eater
And his matter of course
And yet never to nourish
One thought of the source

Questioning loyalty of the body by the head
The gravity of betrayal from words forced said
An egregious abuse of this twenty first century
Turns once a dear friend now into bitter enemy

Eaten meat peace by cease
Too often dismissed with ease
By succumbing to a fate
Replaced upon the plate