Poetry 11

Our Future

Once upon a time,

in our not so distant past

stood a beautiful, a unique world,

laden with promise,

a world where our future was open,

our potential vast.

Now, seduced by glinting tinsel of the mad

our reason quivers

on the edge of a dark abyss.

We have created a world

where wastelands abound

where we

the many, the marginalised, the ordinary,

struggle to survive in voracity that astounds

are seduced

to create wastelands in our minds,

slowly accepting chaos

in a world of insanity.

Here corporate monsters

of hypocrisy, contradictions,

sever the fragile cord

that unites being with being


Pinnacle of Evolution

There’s a crazy ape, who

by means of incredible intransigence

has mastered the art of carnage;

through dogged determination

in a ruthless rampage

raised the body-count beyond belief.

This crazy ape

creates the human chronicles

as a cruel callous calendar,

transforms our indulgent earth

into a primitive barbaric abattoir.

He struts across the land

with bumptious pride;

he’s destructive, he’s devious,

demands dominion

planet wide.

His claim to fame,

history immortalised in rivers of blood.

Even so,

this crazy ape called man, believes

he’s the GODS’ sublime solution,

progress’s perfection,

the pinnacle of evolution.

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