Land LostA Poem by Adair
Remnants of an ancient land,
Deep within the earth. Now covered black with pitch-dark tar. Never to be released from these confines. Chained beneath the weight of ignorance. Heedless of any consequence, Toxins spew forth and quicken the death of all that dwells in once pure water. Clouds of pestilence hang low above our heads. Innocence devoured as sport by the wolves of reality. Forgotten are the ways of the past. No care for traditions long upheld. Gears churning, Ticking towards its own self-wrought destruction. Engines burning, Combustion of the age old life blood of the Earth. Mankind yearning, Hunger for more, Gluttony of the highest magnitude. Blackened smokestacks, Strangely silent, The billow of smoke missing. No cry of bird resounds, No hum of insect wings. The ever present song of life and all that lives, Has rung its final note, A death knell for that which walks, or swims, or flies. For all that lives in fear, and perhaps deserves to die. Nothing churns, or burns, or yearns in this now desolate landscape. Oceans filled with noxious sludge, settling into deep sea trenches, sifting itself into the framework of the earth. Grasslands burnt, Now ash ridden expanse, A fitting farmland for the dark kingdom of excess. Ever changed is the tundra, falling snow now murky brown. Crumbling remains of cities, Store fronts smashed and goods stolen. All remaining, shattered glass and shells of cars Strewn about the street. Reaffirmation of our nature. Even in the face of doom, Order is disregarded. A last Rebellion. Dares a mortal man to ask, What can be done? Nothing. Not before this fury of the gods. Royal garb stripped, Pillars crushed, Star fallen, Cross burnt, The self lost, Faith forgotten, Faith forsaken. Peace broken by discord. No symbol safe, from the blight of man. All hold taint in their inner workings. Imperfection made imperfect. The truth may be revealed. Retaliation for our greatest crimes. A flood, Final destruction of an unrepetant race. Once again, and more. No saving ark to allow lamentation. No pity. No mercy. How far we have fallen, At last it is no more. Perhaps a line here remains for time alone to know. World unveiled, we are the demon. Thus is the final mark of man upon the once great land revealed. All too late. © 2010 AdairReviews
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StatsAuthorAdairNHAboutI've been writing poetry seriously since March of 2010. My works are of various quality levels. Most of the pieces I upload to this site are my better ones. more..Writing
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