This Poetry folder is evolving toward a discussion area. In that vein, let me dedicate this little piece of discussion to those of you who pride yourselves on your superior awareness of environmental issues. Then when I'm done writing this, I'm going to go make an environmentally unsound deposit into the water table through the porcelain aquifer adjustment facility in the other room.
by
James R. Muri
Turpene hazes blanched the sky
Photochemical organo crud
Killed the birds, made them die.
Forest fires scourged the Earth
Blasted trees, roasted bugs,
Boiled fish, stunted births.
Volcanic chains spewed their nacre,
Darkened springs, shortened summers,
Sterilized a jillion acres.
The solar wind shred the air,
Chlorine, flourine ions flow
Along with ozone, everywhere.
All this before the first mammal sniffed for food.
All this while Gingko trees were plentiful.
Man didn't do any of this awful good.
But look! Here comes EnviroMan!
What's this? He doesn't like what he sees?
He's smarter than God, he'll fix it if he can?
What laughable arrogance, what sorry prideful shit.
Man is just part of it all, like any fish.
Does a fish fix anything? No. A fish is part of it.
A fish just lives and does what a fish does.
Not such a bad arrangement.
Man should be satisfied to do what man does.
EnviroMan will shriek and scream, wave banners, shout
Sudotechnopsychomysticofeelgoodbabble.
Save the trees! Ban asphalt and CFCs! Wipe Man out!
Well, The Earth does it to itself, by itself
Within the framework of physics.
It doesn't need Man's puny help.
It'll do fine, with our without us, no matter what we do.
It's a self-correcting machine, flexible and fine,
Home for Man, his sons and heirs, until they decide to go.
Now I know the above is unmetered and rough,
Vaguely rhyming and coarse,
And even maybe offensive to some. Well, tough.
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