In predictable peril
Be now my world,
Made fatally ill
By apathetic ogres
Who covet excess,
To feed their power,
For want of posses,
Thus be man’s state
In a world gone to hell,
Yet ignores its fate
And chooses not tell,
We’re destined endure
A moribund dwell,
Tho once vibrant world
Now exists in unsure,
As man deaf and demur
Tends cause damage afar,
While ecological cure
Be word fix he holds thin,
Save its echo he knows
Whirls in ne’er ending spin!
What will be left
In retrospect,
Held be my world
Of living things,
Unenviable at best,
Since we allowed
To risk their nest,
Piloted by men
Of gargantuan rapacity,
Apathetic to amend…
Thus for unwary child
Who finds not heed,
How will he survive
Man’s destructive seed,
Souring the air he breathes!
The world beholds
A budding mind
Of adolescent bold,
Who soon finds
Psyche in a bind,
Needs mortally face
Youth be replaced,
To thus suffer
That nadir bath
On an ageing path,
The apathetic cold
In mortal bane hold…
No one be immune
To this adverse tune,
Of fated waste
Etching ones face,
Hence with resign
Aging so awaits
A fitting celebrate,
Where you may find
Me fashionably late!
Poetry on a canapé 