Earth-Mother

The air is ripe with human mistakes, 
the sakura wilts upon first inhalation. 
Acid lines the membranes of our lakes, 
we are drowning in our procrastination 

Ignition of petroleum fuels fiery forces 
to tread the dirges of deserted dunes, 
brimming with promises and discourse's. 
The militant musician begins to re-tune. 

The ether itself becomes a waste of space, 
the sky becomes an homage to sabotage, 
streaming conscience that will embrace 
every website, every negative charge. 

But this sonnet is in itself, self defeating, 
a repetitive ruination ripe for deleting.

Reviews

[Robert Strzalko]

I found this to be an abstract piece. I'm not sure what it's about but that's a good thing because it gives me something to contemplate. I think the opening line is very strong....