by SM CADMAN
The dusty sludge hung about the air,
Thickened black with the incense of death.
In a desert far away with fires that burned long,
Into the hours and days; dispatched
From a corporate enigma churning out chaos.
A twisted tale, conceived between barrels
Of crude, misinterpreted remarks from obscure data –
Abused in a vexing and profane way
Only to secure an energy-debt to feed a ravenous
Dependent earth and its’ population.
A never-ending cyclical battlefield of vacant promises
Lead by those who only lead astray; into
The depths of anointed reservoirs, fighting ghosts
From the past, present and future, this darkness
That always clings to every impoverished people.
Yet still we return to the ‘black gold’, unyielding
To its’ powerful addiction; fortunes made by
Lives lost, a dependency to harm one another
In spite of evidence to the contrary, that we could
Indeed create life and living much better.