CIVILISATION?
All of the action,
serves as a distraction.
Diverting our eyes,
from society's lies.
Our civilisation,
like every nation.
Destroying our world,
away life is hurled.
The way we move power,
from tower to tower.
Could endanger all,
If just one should fall.
We're all suffocating,
from vehicles waiting.
For people who ride them,
to climb up inside them,
For lights to match grass,
and traffic to pass.
The ships we send sailing,
our planet are failing.
Designers don't think,
about what they drink,
Think water can't be,
the same as the sea.
Some tankers spill oil,
Which will water spoil,
So birds dive for food,
are covered in crude,
Then wash up on beaches,
resembling leaches.
If they're still alive,
some help them survive,
And when birds can fly,
around in the sky,
They're sent straight back out,
to fly round about.
They fly with great skill,
to reach a landfill,
Which some use in mirth,
to poison the Earth.
So paper decays,
as all plastic stays,
Crushed to the ground,
by metal that's round.
The bulldozers roar,
and crush even more,
A bottle and an,
aerosol can.
In earlier life,
the can was Earth's strife.
It made in the sky,
not seen by an eye,
A hole in Earth's skin,
from that wretched tin.
Still people spray hair,
and poison the air,
So every day,
some of them may say,
Just one can or two,
what harm can it do?
While height it's enjoying,
this gas is destroying,
A thousand Ozone,
atoms on its own,
Like fires that burn,
a forest of fern.
The rain forests suffer,
as they have no snuffer,
To quench the man's flame,
he uses to maim.
So beautiful spires,
are falling in fires,
To clear an acre,
for wheat for a baker.
As he helps us eat,
the gardeners dig peat,
To nourish an ear,
with which they can't hear.
And so a great field,
will painfully yield,
Centuries of toil,
to nourish the soil.
The forests and fields,
were Earth's only shields,
From desert terrain,
and starving for rain.
Destruction of these,
the mosses and trees,
Could ruin Earth's land,
and turn it to sand,
Then cease all the motions,
of Earth's mighty oceans,
And so stop the air,
move from here to there.
The cause and effect,
are hard to detect,
But onward they creep,
away life they sweep.
Our own evolution,
was not the solution,
But it was the cause,
of all people flaws
Wednesday 24th March 1999--Sunday 18th April 1999
THE CLOCK
The end,
and then the start.
Of an,
eternal art.
That cycles,
right around.
With two parts,
to its sound.
The tick,
and then the tock.
Of that,
almighty clock.
That governs,
all our lives.
Through which,
our culture thrives.
Is heard,
on mantle pieces.
And oiled,
with many greases.
The cogs,
just like a star.
Move round,
but travel far.
Through space,
and time of course.
Both will,
destroy their source.
Expire,
and start afresh.
Each time,
with even less.
The cosmos,
grows and shrinks.
And then from,
itself drinks.
So like,
the universe.
I write,
this rhyming verse.
So the,
end is the start.
Like that,
eternal art.
Thursday 27th of April 1999
THE DEAD EVENING
The evening is lying, crying, sighing.
The evening is dying, lying, crying.
The evening is going down,
Like a clown
Throwing water in faces,
Going miserable places.
The evening is dead, crumbling yet staying.
The evening is laying, in a grave, decaying.
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