What bright darkness gleams atop the oil slick,
lights with quartzite glints
the cut coal seam?
What sacred oozes from the bowels of the earth
make men richer, turn their hearts to pitch
and light the sky on fire?
What green rivers of covetousness flow through politicians’ pockets,
line their tailored suits, close seams
sealing their lips forevermore?
So when the day of reckoning comes
(and it will come, it’s threatening already)
the chances are you will not hear them scream,
but rather, silently they’ll slip away, into that primordial ooze
down the ass-cracks of the earth
from whence they came.
That same bright darkness lights my heart
sings in us all, I’m sure
pours petrol in our cars, and warms our homes
I do not protest, do not chain myself to buildings
nor do I change my lifestyle overmuch
but only raise my voice occasionally
tapping out a tune
the rhythm of the keyboard, quietly
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Written for earthweal
For this week’s challenge, ‘Sacred Glimmers,’ Brendan asks us to ‘look for the sacred glimmers hidden in the contradictions of our time.‘ My poem was also written in response to this article I read in the article in The Guardian the other day:
It’s really no wonder we see so little political action in the wake of our impending Anthropocene apocalypse, when money doesn’t talk, it swears…