All our views are disappearing
Replaced by condos growing high.
All our fields are vanishing,
Gone to growing houses side by side.
Little looks the same these days
As it did when I was younger
I cannot see the hills or the bay
Hear train whistles, but their reality I infer.
I ride along the ocean’s shore
Where flowers used to grow and thrive.
In places I see buildings and fences
And sometimes things that are alive.
Daily traffic clogs the roadways
Both ahead of me and for miles behind.
Pumping toxins into the air, I breathe.
I need to go places, see what I’ll find.
When I go and find there’s nothing
And no one that I can ask why.
I’ll regret the actions I take today
That caused us all to die.
Now the pressure builds by inches
And we wonder where to go.
It snaps the will of young men
Before their armor, they can grow.
Yet swords and pikes and muskets are gone
Replaced by long guns, extended magazines.
We work longer days, hours for little pay,
Keep moguls rich, are replaced by machines.
When we are no longer here,
The Earth will breathe a sigh of relief.
Probably too late to change it now.
I wonder what is your belief?
M.A.D. ~ Philip Brent Harris
thepensmight.com 