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No Lives
Were Lost...
in the making of these lines
no rainforest crushed
not even an ant was disturbed by these words
and as for 'eternal
truth'
it can wait and be posthumous
grave is the humor that comes from earth
now is a transitory time -
a station of missed connections
airport of stripped searched souls
roadblock of semi-automatic clichés
wherever you travel - one TV screen
one headline, one planet, one fate
one idea dominates - that change can wait
while we replay familiar days
and wait this next war out.
Others own certainties -
like stock
sharing in dividends with friends
and laughing behind gasmasks
when ozone alerts give us updates
on environmental 'progress'
and truth is elided from the weather forecasts
in case someone disputes the new findings
apparently - we are already dead
-
depleted uranium immune systems
environmental degradation en masse
air and waters irretrievably polluted
nobody tells us anything.
© Thom the
World Poet August 6 2003
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