Poetry – The Only Game In Town

The Only Game In Town

Starting out on the fertile plains,

Stifling, holding us down,

Like smothering glue.

Spreading – like a pandemic – quickly,

Infecting the whole planet.

Robbing us of freedom,

Inoculating us with madness,

Imposing hierarchy,

Now too late for us to ban it.

With eight billion progeny

Enslaved within the enterprise

We laughingly call progress,

We are trapped.

Worshipping the diety

Entombed in the cathedral of the WTO,

From which there is no egress.

We can only observe with mounting sadness

As the machine devours

The very earth we stand upon

Trees and creatures

Transformed into worthless cash.

With nothing left to hand on.

In goes life

Out comes plastic

Concrete and sterility.

Transforming

Life to death

The opposite of fertility.

It’s the only game in town.

Opher – 7.11.2020

When we invented agriculture we had no idea what a mess we would be getting ourselves into. We did not realise we’d be inventing kings, religions, nations, wars and money. We thought we were making life easier and more secure.

We lost our relationship with nature, our place in the cycle. We lost harmony and hope. We gained toil, debt and bosses.

The tipping point is long past. There is no return. Eight billion people cannot live as we once lived. The machine is all-consuming.

When it has devoured the planet it will consume us.

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