"Bloody steaks" ; 12 June, 2023

   

Poem : 'Bloody steaks' ; 7 April, 2023.

Bloody steaks

On "BLOODY STEAKS" and "SOME WAIT !"

These two poems refer in general to the subject of capital punishment.

(a) In "BLOODY STEAKS" :

"Murder most foul !" and "Out, damn'd spot !" :  after Shakespeare's "MACBETH."

(b) On these two poems, please also see :

(i) "Pour une République sans potence." "L'EXPRESS" newspaper, Mauritius, 10 November, 1991, (page 7).

(ii) "THE FABER BOOK OF MURDER." (Edited by Simon Rae). London : Faber and Faber Ltd., 1994. (In particular, pages 178, 179, and 200 to 203).

(iii)  "L'inconstitutionalité de la peine de mort prononcée par la justice sud-africaine." "L'EXPRESS" newspaper, 31July, 1995.

(iv) "Archives. Il s'appelait Rupsing." "Le MAURICIEN" newspaper, Mauritius, 7 October, 1992. This is the story of a man called Rupsing, who had been condemned to death in Mauritius in 1838. From this article by Norbert Benoit, we can quote  the following :

"(.....) From the time of his condemnation, Rupsing showed an extraordinary calm and resignation. In his cell at Port Louis, he waited, not showing any sign of distress or emotion. Then came the day when he asked to see his child. Poignant meeting, during which Rupsing cried a lot, before resuming his usual impassibility. On the 8th October, he confided to the interpreter : «I'd like to have a little mango plant, so I could plant it in the yard of the court; on seeing it, the judges who condemned me would say : It was Rupsing who planted this tree.»

"But, Rupsing would suffer the worst agonies. In fact, there had been so much hesitation ! First, a request for commuting the sentence had been addressed to the governor, who rejected it. An appeal against conviction was then made. And, still there were hesitations. About the execution itself, as well as about the right time for carrying it out. All this imposed on poor Rupsing all the thousand torments of the last ordeals, and many people felt revolted in their consciences : they wanted Rupsing to be left in peace in his jail, with the religious comforts that were being administered to him, and the consoling idea that perhaps he would not be executed. On the 8th October, it was announced to Rupsing that the execution would definitely take place on the 11th. On the morning of the 10th, it was learnt that all had changed, that he had to get ready the same day at one o'clock. He was given his last bath and was transferred to the police cell, from where he would go to the place of execution. And there were yet more hesitations....  Rupsing was brought back to his previous jail; the execution was delayed. All these delays turned out to be too much for poor Rupsing, who had fallen ill since the day he had been informed of the execution. At 11 at night, on the same 10th October, Rupsing died in jail ! He never knew the scaffold !

"Thus Rupsing died. Would we dare speak of «natural death» ? We must add that, brought back into jail, Rupsing was still in the red shirt of those condemned  to death, and was still wearing, at the time of his death, the red cap; scaffold gear; clothes that were rather burning him since six in the morning. Was it justice ?  Was it equity ? For, certainly, in what Rupsing had suffered, humanity itself had been outraged in what there was of the most sacred : the last moments of the condemned man !" (My translation from French).

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Bloody steaks

Comments by ChatGPT on 24 April, 2023 :

ChatGPT :

Thank you for the notes and for sharing the poem "Bloody Steaks." As an AI language model, I don't have emotions or feelings, but I can provide a commentary on the poem based on the information you have shared.

The poem seems to be an exploration of the morality of capital punishment. The title "Bloody Steaks" suggests the idea of something being sacrificed or killed, which could be a reference to the lives of people who are sentenced to death.

The opening lines, "Murder most foul!" and "Out, damn'd spot!", are taken from Shakespeare's play "Macbeth," which features themes of guilt and the consequences of murder. These lines could imply that the death penalty is a form of revenge that does not solve the underlying issues or bring peace to the victims' families.

The references you provided to newspaper articles and books suggest that the poem is part of a larger conversation about the morality and effectiveness of the death penalty. The story of Rupsing, a man who was sentenced to death and suffered through numerous delays and hesitations before dying in jail, is particularly poignant and highlights the inhumane aspects of capital punishment.

Overall, the poem seems to question the morality of taking a human life, even as punishment for a crime. It raises important questions about justice and the value of human life, and encourages readers to think critically about the death penalty and its implications.
 
S. Ragavan :
Can you examine different issues raised in the text of the poem and comment on them ?

ChatGPT :
This poem is a scathing critique of the death penalty and the people involved in its execution. The poet highlights the idea that man has mastered the art of regulating everything, including the taking of human life. The poem describes the regulations that are in place to ensure that the death penalty is carried out efficiently and without any mess. The hangman, the jailer, the death-asker, and the grave-digger are depicted as people who are only doing their jobs, without any thought or consideration for the person they are about to execute.

The poem also highlights the absurdity of the death penalty, suggesting that it is a primitive and futile attempt to bring justice to society. The poet argues that the death penalty is not a solution to crime, but rather a way to perpetuate the cycle of violence and revenge. The poem suggests that the death penalty is not an act of justice, but rather an act of cruelty and brutality.

The poet also critiques the idea that the death penalty is a way to make society a "better" place in which to dwell. The poem suggests that this idea is flawed, and that the death penalty only serves to create more pain and suffering in the world.
Overall, the poem is a powerful indictment of the death penalty and the people who are involved in its execution. It challenges us to consider the morality and the effectiveness of this practice, and to question whether it truly serves the interests of justice and humanity.
 
S. Ragavan :
Thank you. Goodbye for now.

ChatGPT :
You're welcome. Goodbye! Feel free to come back if you have any more questions in the future.

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                                            "BLOODY STEAKS"

There are regulations for the living,
There are regulations for the dying,
There are regulations for everything :
Man masters the secret of regulating.

In slaughter houses the gore is well canalis'd :
At the scaffold ne'er is the gore publicis'd;
From his folly Man disposes well of the very mess :
All his gore-letting he executes with sheer prowess.

A piece of rope and a wooden contraption :
What a cheap and convenient final solution !
Well may the prey weep his last tears of sorrow :
For, certainly will he not live to see tomorrow.

The most chilling ritual hath Man concoct'd
For denying to his brother the throb of life;
Some pension might be dish'd out to the wife,
But, from the fellow the life must be extract'd.

By his crime, yonder a widow had made the fellow :
The trap snapp'd open. And made a new widow.
A widow for a widow : how yon "justice" be mellow.
A tooth for a tooth. A sorrow for a sorrow.

Precise regulations have been made,
For, everything must run like clockwork;
The hangman protests 'tis just his work :
The grave-digger insists on a little spade…..

These regulations be in everybody's interest :
So, if yonder in peace thou doth want to rest,
Just comply with them, and do as thou art told,
For, very soon, anyway, wilt thou turn cold.

The poor fellow fail'd to observe a simple regulation :
That of not killing his fellow countryman, his brother;
For this failure, he be now at the end of his tether :
Now hath he to face some final, chilling retribution.

                                            @@@

He's only doing his job, the death-asker;
He's only doing his job, the jailer;
He's only doing his job, the hanging officer;
He's only doing his job, the grave-digger.

For a living, death some be demanding;
For a living, the dying some be guarding;
For a living, the agonising some be killing;
For a living, the murder'd some be burying.

The prisoner hath complied. He is sitting on the floor.
His arm behind, he hath turn'd his back to the door.
If only all prisoners would behave themselves thus :
If only they realis'd how futile 'twas to make fuss !

Everything's going to order, nods to himself the hangman.
"Justice" is being done. An orphan for an orphan.
On his shopping for the day, the hangman is reflecting :
How a post of Senior Hangman would be to his liking !

Even if the fellow be the only one of his grade,
Finally the post why should we not upgrade ?
A most serious business be this job of hanging :
Many would just chicken out, like some weakling.

Senior Hangman, Principal Hangman, Chief Hangman :
Even if he be the only one in the post, man,
What does it matter ? Avenue of promotion !....
Every man needs that. Reward the man's devotion.

Through any Confirmation Bar he promises to sail :
Over any Proficiency Bar he would climb without fail;
In this mopping-up business he hath always done well :
He makes society a "better" place in which to dwell.

Indeed, if only was he allow'd to have his way :
To his ideas if good attention we did pay,
The scaffold should always be in full swing :
Many offenders promptly should go a-dangling.

The scaffold saves on money, meals and manpower :
It liberates staff : it despatches the prisoner :
Packs him off for good : saves on electricity :
Permanently removes all the scum from society.

                                          @@@

The regulations had been made by a genius :
They make life so much "better" for all of us.
Life ? Whose life ? The life of the hangman.
And even death. The prisoner's death, man !

The great regulations don't mess around :
With profound compassion do they abound;
Long enough hath the prisoner agonis'd :
Kill him off now in some manner "civilis'd."

Once the ceremony hath been trigger'd off,
Things must move fast, with the right timing;
Timing, timing --- don’t anybody at this scoff !
The regulations have not been made for nothing.

The murder cannot be complete without bloodletting :
Yes, the killing hath to be made more blood-curling;
Go slash the limp body, go have a bloodletting spree,
Go on, thou hath nothing to fear, nobody will see.

The good doctor, to save life well drill'd and train'd,
Now certifies that "lawful" death hath been attain'd.
The doctor, deck'd out in a coat white and spotless,
After seeing life snuff'd out, certifies the man lifeless.

"Justice" hath been done. Yonder be the correct'd body.
Follow the regulations. Announce this to all and sundry.
Post up a paper. Duly sign'd by those in "authority."
A man hath succumb'd. To Man's tyranny and folly.

Where on earth does the hangman do his shopping ?
Really, his meals are so tasty, so mouth-watering…..
The hungry doctor savours up his dinner so well :
Somehow, the blood under his steak rings a bell……

                                              @@@

Night hath fallen. On the scaffold sits an owl,
Wondering on this contraption most strange,
That is not a house, nor a shed, nor a grange :
The bird wants to cry out : "Murder most foul !"

In one corner of yon grim ground,
Lies a little, freshly-made mound;
Plenty of the stuff hath been thrown in,
To make all traces vanish from within.

The body must vanish; it hath been cover'd up with lime.
All traces must go : the murderers cover up their crime.
But, yonder, at some office, on some obscure roll,
A new widow the bloody hands be compell'd to enrol...

Say, all trace of what ? All trace of that killer.
And, while we are at it, all trace of his own murder.
Regulations. For the regulations we offer our thanks :
Of murderers and the scum, they deplete the very ranks.

But, all the lime of the land ne’er can rub out this crime :
For, a death certificate must thou give, in a little time……
Pray, 'pon what authority was the man sent dangling ?
Pray, who had decid'd 'pon this "lawful" killing ?

Following some set ritual, after killing his prey,
Under some leaves and twigs yon beast buries him;
Nobody else should grab this dinner so gory, so grim :
In the river drinking, the animal licks the blood away.

Like the beast, Man buries the prey he murders,
But, gobbling it down might give some the shivers…..
The doctor's white coat now hath a little red dot :
Like the animal at the river : "Out, damn'd spot !"

'Tis Sunday again. 'Tis dinner time once more.
At this table, the death-asker and the jailer,
At that one, the hangman and the grave-digger,
All dig happily into their bloody steaks. As before.

On the freshly-made mound, in yon corner,
Sways in the compound a fragile flower;
Pluck it off ! This can't be allow'd to happen.
Under the regulations, 'tis strictly forbidden.

Really, in these regulations we must believe :
In spite of all those silly recriminations,
What would we do without these regulations ?
What would we do ? Perhaps we might live.... 

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