Who will know When we arrive, The road to go To thus survive, As fellow human Found yet alive, Knowing naught Of who we follow, Did find bestow But dubious plan, For a life hollow We naïvely accept, Tho so contrived As inimical deed, The likes devised By powers of greed, We’d failed advised Be iniquitous mislead!
© Jean-Jacques Fournier ov written in Sweetsburg October 27, 2021
– in a deadly race –
Pending we find
Be fated space,
Afore we in time
Do evaporate,
Past our assign
At carnage rate,
Thus so spent
Oblivious of state,
In a desolate bent
Of what we’ve left,
In a deadly race,
Too soon reduced
To depleted place,
Of carved out caves
We’ll surely face,
In dire need to stave
Forces waiting hungrily,
Held lowly knaves,
Who’d greedily engage,
Imperiling earthly space,
Albeit by then our grave!
written in Grasse, Fr.
© Jean-Jacques Fournier
On day six
The gods did fashion
A creature thick
They labelled man,
Save on day seven
Concept was panned,
As but a failed trick,
And forced to confess
‘Twas their worst yet,
This lowest living form
The world would get,
And gods coined human …
Thus without a soul
Ingredient main
In held man’s role,
Ideated in its stead
Implanting greed
To complete its head,
Yet would err apart,
By the omit of a heart…
Hence till all be dust
This fashioned man,
Be a merchant of greed
Who’d forever fuss,
To feed an inexorable lust!
~ a cry for woman to usurp,
considering man’s record ~
I see images
Of inimicalness,
Worrying
With purpose,
Of goading
Submissions
From humans
Too worn,
Exuding despair
Exacted upon
By greedy design,
In a situate
Beyond unkind,
While exploiting
Denies insouciant,
As they shape
Fellowman’s fate,
To thus so fit
A callous world pit,
Leaving behind
Obscured of hope
Beings of a kind,
Who shan’t survive
In a failed world
All but gone blind,
To bankers and brokers
And political jokers,
With their greedy designs!
I saw sun set
And see it yet,
Rise on the seas
That kept afloat
The enterprise,
I have been told
Meant keep alive,
Man ever bold
Who navigates
Without a soul,
Giant waves
That carries fate
In a ship’s hold,
That blackish gold
Destined contaminate
Mankind whole,
The while helpless
In mind and soul,
We watch man dig
Our untimely grave!
Man ought live
To ameliorate
The human lot,
If but to give
Before his greed
Exceeds his need,
Which to attain
Must finds to rule
Those disinclined,
And well beyond
The silent blind,
Schemes deeds
Meant to amass
All he could don,
The while aligns
To fashion seed
For payola feed,
Claim fellow troughers
Who live sty high,
Off corporate coffers,
Powering greed!
ode to failed
golden parachutists
Poetry on a canapé 