The bed is barren
the banks austere
no thirsty Terran
finds succor here
devoid of dew at dawn and dusk
the weary world a withered husk.
We gather for
the sacrifice
to try once more
and pay the price
our angry gods have yet to heed
disgusted by our brutal breed—
we squandered all
to try and slake
our lusty gall
convinced we’d make
a planet purged of petty strife
instead of this barbaric life.
Are You Reading Me?
2 comments:
Nice piece of writing. A true indictment of our time on this planet.
Let's hope we learn before it's too late.
Thanks Paul, this is one of my 'Alternate Reality' poems, hopefully we'll never get there.
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