Have you ever seen a charcoal sky?
A polluted air, a grayish reflection?
The charcoal immolates the country
Factories move the process along,
To promote the general welfare,
To sustain the flowing ecosystem of
Coal, fuel, Carbon dioxide
Living harmoniously
With the natural world
Kumbaya, Hakuna matata
More like
Veni, vidi, vici
Holy in moloch.
The dogma adapts, the
Fraud joins with us,
Like nature itself.
Each monument a disaster
Thrown into a cataclysm
Surrounded by an apocalypse
Caused by a miasma,
Founded on our basic humanity.
White zombies appear nightly,
Crying from the basements of stairways;
Poverty is so cruel;
Animals, soulless critters,
Filthy pigs and tigers locked away for madness
Corrupted air breeds the
Primitive, poor minds it shuns
Those born into the jungle
(Tabula rasa, all is possible)
Suffer politely under the chaos
One with the machine
Above the white zombies, doom,
Imminent collapse of civilization.
Waterfalls, brilliant skies,
Angel hair and angel eyes.
Roses growing in cemeteries,
Violets growing in bedrooms.
Holy before the Gods
of Industry, Stock markets,
Legacy funds, War bonds,
Divine taxes, Corporate bail-outs
Kneeling, impoverished men
And women awake to darkness.
The miasma grows,
The charcoal emerges,
The crude oil surges,
The evil air inhales happiness
And exhales death,
Up-, up- to the sky.

4 thoughts on “Miasma

    • Thank you so much. It’s a tragic misery many of us have felt, and I’d say it’s helpless. About the moloch line, I absolutely love Ginsberg. It just came out, as I was writing, and stuck. I’m a fan of your poetry as well, so thank you again!

  1. Pingback: Photographers, Pastors, Bipolar Med Students, Editors, and others: Featuring Followers VI | A Way With Words

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