Mark Matthews Poet Free verse

What a World

Death
   is what falls
   from the skies.
   Leaving ponds
   stagnant and empty.

Grim
   is our lands
   from innovations and technology.
   Barren and desolate
   we make it as
Reapers
   take what's good
   for their own intent.

A
   man mindlessly aims a gun
   at a merchant.
Poco
   feels his body go numb
   as he has his
Lips
   pressed against his wife's
   for the last time.

War
   destroys everything
   as people wonder
   if they will live to grow
Old.

Loose
   is our world
   like the whore
   we have made it out to be.
If
   it was such a woman,
   AIDS would be killing
Her
   like pollution is now.

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