there is always someone burning
scorching
the earth
using
everything sold or stolen
even
me, in an isolated valley
organically
grooming my ego
making
a smaller carbon footprint
before
dying to make none at all
i
live with the circumstance of modernity
ashamed
of my jealousy and greed
only
rage that what a government does
is
out of my control
out
of my range
for
though i know where I will not go back
and
the toys i left i left for recycling
as
on the bike path I go
it jammed
with mopeds of foreign laborers
and
geezers with rotten teeth
who
could care less what law they are breaking
nevertheless share our tiny existence
with
nothing but the clothes on our backs
contributing
nothing
but damage
caring
not what happens tomorrow
like me writing
bullshit poetry
haphazardly making
sense of it
and
releasing rage in a harmless way
about
the scorched earth on the other shore
done
for someone’s sickly pleasure
annoying
my precious leisure
with
burnt smells and blackened hills
from capitalist hell
a decrepit well where business rules
where we put up with thoughtless fools
helpless
and hopeless fools
from shithole nations
lying
to get us into wars
