Will our kids learn stories of snails popping out in the rain?
Stars that used to guide sailors at night before our artifice hollowed heaven?
Or will we yearn when we had children at all
No stories to tell of a greater world
Just skeletal, sterile, sickening waste
We have stolen from our young
Clasped our hands at the altar of excess
Emptied the soil to fill the stuffed pockets of empty minds
Mindlessly babbling over whose blood we do not share to divert and divide
When our greatest weapon has always been one another
So maybe the chemicals in the water are not turning the friggin' frogs gay
But wrapped in layers of plastic holds the answer to mankind's clownish infertility
We are in a new age
An existential threat unlike any other
Not just for our flora and fauna
Or our poorest and powerless
But those at the top of Babylon
The end comes to all those who wait
And wait we shall.
YOU ARE READING
Oeuvre & Oeuvre Again
PoetryA collection of poems for working out the fog in my mind and about my characters ♡♡
