Notes of a Concerned Observer

Innovation:

our time-honored annihilation.

Another latest, greatest fad -

screams the planet of the mad.

Extinction

of our borrowed Creation.

Flesh bled dry and painfully bare.

Soon nothing will be left to care.

Never mind the havoc we wreak.

Close your eyes to the truth we seek.

Focus solely on trampling the meek

as we hurdle towards a horizon bleak.

Bastions of faith, furnished in greed

preying upon the ones in need

Slums kept perpetually divided by breed.

Youth loved like weeds, not sprouting seeds.

"But there's nothing I can do anyway-

hey, doesn't the new episode air today?"

Or maybe if we all collectively pray

our problems will just magically wash away -

cleansed by storms of environmental decay

ushered in on skies of mournful grey,

as if we didn't for a moment have a say.

Unable to escape the shadow of yesterday.

Author's Note

I don't know how I feel about this poem, but I suppose it is what it is. I wrote it this morning in a fit of introspection, which eventually turned outward as I looked around on my daily commute to class. The seed of this was already jotted down in my notebook, so when I turned to it, thoughts strung together.

It's probably too preachy, it's probably too whiny, but I dunno. This has been irritating me lately and it just needed to come out in some form or another. I don't think this writing is really up to muster, but maybe I'm being overly harsh. I have a feeling I'm not, though.