Freshest Veal - A Poem

Hi my names Carl.
I’ll be your server.
Just follow me human
we’ll go get your dinner.

Follow you!
You bring it here!
Please come with me sir
you’ll soon get the idea.

So of to the back room
so we can best serve
the plate that you want
here’s your apron sir.

An’ apron my friend,
why I don’t comprehend.
You’ll need it today
an’ these gloves for your hands.

What’s all this then?
I ordered the veil,
I’ve got no time for games son
I just want my meal.

An’ a meal it will be sir,
an’ fresher than fresh,
see that calf in the corner
just go slit his neck.

What the fuck is this Carl
I can’t take a life!
Why if you want to dine sir
you have to t’night.

I tell y’what sir
use the hammer instead.
Just two or three shots sir
rite there on his head.

Why this is preposterous
just go cook my meat.
Sir smash his head open
an’ then you can eat.

Go on sir...
What y’waitin’ for?
Just as I reckoned
you can’t bare the thought.

Your a hypocrite sir
gimme that knife
you want a meat dinner
but can’t take a life.

That’s all good sir
‘cause for your delight,
I’ll take the hammer
an’ then take the knife.

Just stand rite there sir,
here’s how it’s done,
you lift up the hammer
an’ smile for fun.

Awwww look.
The poor babies scared,
see the tears in his eyes
oh that’s rite you don’t care.

Here we go sir
now watch his head
an’ three two one. Stop!
...I’ll have veggies instead!

Oh sir I’m afraid
you can’t change your mind,
for you asked for veil
from the freshest supply.

How’s this for your pleasure sir
look at his eyes,
it don’t come any fresher
than a meal that just cried.

So what’s it to be,
will it be you or me,
‘cause the doors stayin’ locked sir,
an’ y’did order veil.

This is fucked up!
Just open the door...
Please don’t kill him Carl
I don’t want meat no more.

Imagine this scene before your next meal,
could you slit their throats
an’ hear as they squeal.

Could you take the sledge
an hammer home blows,
to the head of a baby
no more than months old.

An’ watch as his eyes
filled up with tears,
as he tries to escape
from the death you bring nearer.

Every blow to his head
but he’s still not dead,
but the knife brings him close
as it passes his throat.

A few more kicks sir,
is that tears in your eyes?
I did this for you
for your dinner tonight.

Your a monster you freak!
Carl how could you do that!
Sir you ordered veil
don’t give me that crap.

It was your hands that butchered
an’ took someone’s life
it’s supply by demand
for your dinner t’night.

An’ next time dear sir
you want someone’s life,
to stick with your fork
an’ cut up with your knife.

Remember that life
that you couldn’t take,
an’ it wasn’t your fault
or just a mistake.

‘Cause deep down inside
sir you know it’s not rite,
did you see how that calf sir
fought for his life.

Now most will say sure
I’ll kill my food...
...‘till they’re locked up with me
in my restaurants back room.

by Carl Porten.

Carl’s books can be found here:

I Did This For You - A Poem