Sea-Sickness
It must be sea-sickness.
Her stomach is stir up;
it growls louder, and louder.
She coughs up high surges and spits on humanity.
Yes, the great one is sad;
bluer she gets,
as the days go by.
Civilization sucks ….
oil from straws passing through the belly of the deep;
crude is the conscience of this beast.
Darkness seeps on the ocean floor,
suffocating the coral reefs.
Ears were numb to the billows roar
until the black blob washed ashore.
Wise guys devise white lies
Of how much poison she is forced to drink.
Refinement reeks loudly,
so stink,
as foul as a politician,
and the great one whisper hushed the land:
“Down with social progress.”
Copyright © Earle Brown | Year Posted 2010
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