bureaucracy cull
a death by a thousand cuts ~
slasher slash and burn
***
Waste has worsened widespread.
World's oceans polluted.
Wonder throwaway mind
Wadded to poor beings
Wreckage of planes and trains
Wastage slash-and-burn seas
Worldbank work tackle trash
2nd place in the W Pleiades contest
Written: May 9, 2021
Pleiades W Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Merryman
Hath Thy Blackened Heart Replaced Blood With Stone
Why hath thy wanton greed no end in sight
seeking to cover day by dark of night
Why would thy greed led to destroy thy own
as in thy Nature's destruction thus shown,
slash and burn forests in thy awful greed
deny future generations its seeds.
Horrific grey ashen ground, burned out roots
heedless, needless trampling by human boots
No more, shall birds nest in its high covers
or it shade hidden romance of lovers,
hath thy blackened heart replaced blood with stone
and soul wed itself to money alone?
As thy life's walk leads to malignant seas
heed thee not, Nature's cries about its trees
Does thy life dwell in great and soundless pits
where joy is measured in mad raving fits,
of lusts, ever craving for more and more
and widespread destruction from shore to shore?
Why hath thy wanton greed no end in sight
seeking to cover day by dark of night
Why would thy greed led to destroy thy own
as in thy Nature's destruction thus shown,
slash and burn forests in thy awful greed
deny future generations its seeds.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-19-2017
(Nature poem, written as requested my poetess friend)
Election…
…again
The masses are called to the public square
Pilots post candidates
Pundits peal their parlance
The public primarily pares them to Barabbas and Truth.
Barabbas wins again,
Promises to slash and burn, cut everyone to size
Make things great again!
Truth whiplashed, double crossed and crossed off hangs in the breeze of Golgotha,
Sighing seven sorrowful seeds of salvation.
Should they ever sprout again,
Hope’s everlasting grandeur awaits…
…again
The elect.
©Gerardo Perrotta
3-15-2016
Cyberpunk melodies from a broken shell.
Fishing a crooked coin from the wishing well.
Slanted rooftops slash and burn.
How the trapezoid takes its turn.
Scaling heights beyond the skies.
Some are dark most are lies.
Miscalculation to the Nth degree.
All we really want will never be free.
Reality melds with fiction.
When it suffers from inproper diction.
The glass stained with blood and light.
Is it wrong because it's right?
We categorise our lack of society
With a gross abundance of impiety.
Never ill always well.
Cyberpunk melodies from a broken shell.
The hour is at hand that men must see
the wounded Earth as bare as it can be
By our own hands as we slash and burn
By our own hands as we chop and turn
this lush emerald mountain
into a dust laden terrain
When will we open our eyes?
When the river swells…
and floods take our lives?
Will it not be too late?
When will we ever care…
That the fuels we burn
poisons our living air
Will it not be too late?
So I say:
Wake up old man…
See what has become!
Wake up young boy…
See what you can do!
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