Coral Hull: Poetry: Bestiary: The Industry Horses:/ 2. They Love To Run

I MACKENZIE KNIGHT I A CHILD OF WRATH A GOD OF LOVE I FALLEN ANGELS EXPOSED I

CORAL HULL: BESTIARY
THE INDUSTRY HORSES

2. They Love To Run

Horses love to race in the Melbourne cup,
& they love to be draught horses in the city,
with their little drawn carriage tucked in behind, forced to work in extreme heat & cold,
& to battle the traffic while inhaling exhaust fumes, as a drawcard for tourists,
& they love the steel bit tugging at their tender gums,
& they love standing & flicking their tails in the stormy weather,
& they love the sound of their shoed hooves smashing down along Swanston Street,
& they love their owners with the whips,
& they love the plastic bag they shit in tied around their hindquarters,
but most of all they love you on their backs & in the carriages saying, 'Hi there Mr. Gee Gee',
but more than this, horses love to race,
& they love parading in green & purple satin at the racetrack,
& they love the blood tests, antibiotics & anti inflammatory drugs,
injected into the most popular sport in Australia,
& the heavy falls, bone chips on knee joints, bowed tendons, impaired suspended ligaments,
sprains, shoulder muscle damage, fractured bones, spinal injuries & internal haemorrhages,
& they love these symptoms masked by drugs, & to be pushed to their limits,
& to be the horse photographed for the sporting section of the Melbourne Age,
& to be the horses who break down repeatedly on the track, due to strenuous training,
& to be like Andallah who loved to break his neck, in the Grand National Steeplechase at Flemington,
& especially remember, how horses love to race,
& how if they don't make the grade, they love the end of their lives at the knackeries,
& they love socialites & Melbourne comedians trying hard to make the sport acceptable,
& the middle class businessmen owning them, & to show jump to their deaths over hurdles,
remember young horses forced to run, at high speeds, for extended periods of time,
remember the fracturing of bones, not strong enough to withstand the gruelling pace,
remember them, forced on by spurs & whips & kicking,
legs bandaged, manes back, mouths stretched into the bit, noses forward,
eyes bulging, eyes shielded, blinkers on, as we must also be blind to them,
remember lameness, as the greatest cause of racing days lost,
& the horses that join gymkhanas, or stand forgotten, emaciated in fields,
& the fragility of a horse's legs, fatigued, immature, poorly conditioned, poorly shoed,
& the inconsistent racing tracks, all of which will help a horse to fall,
when a horse comes crashing down, the crowd falls silent,
& i throw my hands up, when a horse falls, onto its neck, onto the track,
or when a horse breaks a leg or a shoulder, the bones exploding into many pieces,
remember the people who attend the Melbourne Cup, & who go to the races,
& how they love the multi million dollar industry,
& how we love to watch the climax of this & that event, namely,
a horse with a broken leg, or a defeated horse, strenuously labouring along the track.

    

This website is part of my personal testimony that has been guided by The Holy Spirit and written in Jesus' name.

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