Planet Peasant

When will we listen?

The world chokes on our industrial breath,

The smog a strangling hand,

Our sick green clouds infect the sky,

Air coughs a desperate plea.

We do not listen.

 

The clouds weep their acid rain,

Onto the shivering trees,

Made naked by us, these once proud kings,

They cry and beg--"No more!”

We do not listen.

 

The roots in the ground quiver and convulse

to the rhythm of our engines,

The ground is cramped by our footsteps,

It prays and hopes to breathe.

We do not listen.

 

We still don’t listen.

Author's Note

Whaddaya think?

Reviews

[Red]

Whoa, this is pretty heavy. Sadly it is true that we treat our earth like a 30 cent hooker that we just did because we felt like it and it was cheap. Putting disturbing metaphors aside, your poem is very well thought out and I can tell you put some time into unlike some who write 5 sentences, can't write with proper grammar or english, and get a million reviews; I know you know what I'm talking about. I have no complaints with this. It wasn't to over the top where it sounded like a tree huger wrote it and it wasn't too weak that it made me fall asleep. Very nicely done. BTW, I know poems are easier to write, but I would love to see you write a story. I haven't see your writing in a while.
-Red