A
Ava
Guest
Modern Morning
The blue of a morning sky
Crisscrossed with white scars
Where the airships whipped
The heavens into obedience.
A lone tree, a wise tree
With a hundred years to mourn
And remember the felling
Of his forest fellows.
Rigid lines mar the land.
Now tended by this hand.
A hand as foreign as another,
No one was born of this earth.
Murky, dirty clouds. Smog
Lines the sky's periphery.
A token of humanities' progress,
We choke ourselves to death
On our superior intellects.
Ugly, expensive buildings
Rise out of a neighborhood
Like weeds, that we pay for
The privilege of hating.
An expensive black sedan
Bearing Halliburton's brand
Ambles by, like an overseer
Assuring the complacency
Of the serfs that build his steel castles.
Shades of gray coat everything.
The road is somber, no longer a merry trail
In an unpopulated forest. It now hosts
The very evils that it stood so long against.
Minds captured by a black box
Rendering them vegetative, like an opiate.
Only we hand out this drug
To keep energetic children silent.
Women, children, men roll past
Giant reminders of the greed
That surrounds me. Their faces stuffed
With killer sweets and saturated fats.
Groups of teenagers walking to school
Cloned to look like their peers
Where is the originality they so adamantly profess?
Creativity requires too much attention span.
On a bus crammed with strangers
I sit, observing social entropy
Wide-eyed and alarmed
At the Charybdis consuming all beauty.
With no protests
No resistance
Not even awareness
That the end of all we hold dear
Is so terribly near.
The blue of a morning sky
Crisscrossed with white scars
Where the airships whipped
The heavens into obedience.
A lone tree, a wise tree
With a hundred years to mourn
And remember the felling
Of his forest fellows.
Rigid lines mar the land.
Now tended by this hand.
A hand as foreign as another,
No one was born of this earth.
Murky, dirty clouds. Smog
Lines the sky's periphery.
A token of humanities' progress,
We choke ourselves to death
On our superior intellects.
Ugly, expensive buildings
Rise out of a neighborhood
Like weeds, that we pay for
The privilege of hating.
An expensive black sedan
Bearing Halliburton's brand
Ambles by, like an overseer
Assuring the complacency
Of the serfs that build his steel castles.
Shades of gray coat everything.
The road is somber, no longer a merry trail
In an unpopulated forest. It now hosts
The very evils that it stood so long against.
Minds captured by a black box
Rendering them vegetative, like an opiate.
Only we hand out this drug
To keep energetic children silent.
Women, children, men roll past
Giant reminders of the greed
That surrounds me. Their faces stuffed
With killer sweets and saturated fats.
Groups of teenagers walking to school
Cloned to look like their peers
Where is the originality they so adamantly profess?
Creativity requires too much attention span.
On a bus crammed with strangers
I sit, observing social entropy
Wide-eyed and alarmed
At the Charybdis consuming all beauty.
With no protests
No resistance
Not even awareness
That the end of all we hold dear
Is so terribly near.