A seedy world chugs along the locusts’ path,
Sterile and bedraggled.
Abrasive greed outstrips all poisons,
Piling tiers of death.
Vile ramparts, flouting Nature,
Compost’s rebuff, outlive the weak flowers
As if perverted oil
Clogged up the clean, arterial flow of life
To jar us with a fractured orbit.
Oh that the light from the moon could brain us!
Could we but inhale our eyesores
And vomit forth revulsion from neglect;
Oh: could we but deflect desires
From cursed and blinding foci
And with that broken wheel, true ploughshare
Dam all erosion, lashing filthy burrows!
Not yet – for hopes can only gel
Beyond our grasp;
Not yet – while we cruel anglers bait ourselves;
While with excess we glut excess
To make a false, round giddiness
Our self-conceited quicksand –
Drifting as we breathe.