Zachary Richardson Poet Didactic

Forney

The grass is a pale yellow 
The sky groans above it
The children play on the grass
And their feet crunch on the grass
Like snow in the winter-time
And I envy the Scottish, the Irish.

The plow rusts in the soil
The companion of labour and toil
Lies encased in the muck of 
The Blackland Prairie.

The lifeless form steering the John Deere
Probably drunk on cheap bitter beer
Pilots the monster through forest
Driving Pan and the Satyrs away
And this is only another day
Of destruction on the prairie.

And Suburbia is built 
On top of God's earth, and false names,
Deceitful names, are given to the editions:
Woodcreek, Sunny Peak, Deer Leap
Where the creek is dry
The sun refuses to shine
And the deer is extinct.

The wind cuts like a razor 
Through the few trees that remain.
The people drive their cars
While their children sit inside,
Playing their video games, seeing stars
Their brains already dead.

And the rain does not come
Because of man's greed, and
Off the highway to Hell
Lies a young sapling, full of
Promise, waiting to live,
Then stripped from the earth by
The jaws of the yellow monster.

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