Poem - Lack of a Cure

Fri, 27 Sep 2019 02:01:35 GMT

The poem “Lack of a Cure” is about the neglect of older generations in the arena of combating climate change. These elderly souls may pass from the earth before doom fully descends, but their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren will shoulder the resulting hell.

Lack of a Cure

The end will come very soon
steal the beloved left behind
after fools have expired
sealing doom in aftermath

a fate none seek is ensured
by the lack of a pressing cure
when medicine is put aside
by the infirm who will die

before the worse comes to pass
leaving nothing then to last
sweeping all from the earth
reduced to beasts as a curse

still the fools have their day
staking comfort in the blink
living large in twilight years
before a hell descends to earth.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190926.

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Poem - Flowers in the End

Sun, 06 Jan 2019 23:41:29 GMT

The poem “Flowers in the End” was inspired by a re-purposed meme that featured a discussion between two characters, One is planting flowers. The first asks, “why so optimistic about 2019? What do you think it will bring? Everything seems so messed up.” The second character replies, “I think it will bring flowers.” The first says, “yes, how come?”. The first say, “because I am planting flowers.”

Flowers in the End

There will be flowers in the end
after the towers topple down
casting stones where they may
among the petals that remain
probing for the winking sun
faces turned upward to find the orb
obscured by clouds man has made
rich with ash from distant flames

the past planters are in their graves
sharing space with probing roots
tendrils seeking nourishment
those late yarders now fertilizer
the end result of what’s transpired
means so little to budding plants
innocent unto themselves
bear still witness in the end

the bright colors testify
that hope continues past the end
even if there are no folks
to bear witness to spectrums shown
differences provoked the end
now the hues remind the dead
of the beauty most forgot
in the range of varied thought

the world is whole for a brief time
enough to bring forth budded spawn
the curtain has not fully dropped
even though the world is silent
they exist because the gardeners
foresaw how the world would fall
when normality does revert
the flowers will greet returning souls.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190106.

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Journey to Ixtlan

Poem - Lack of a Cure

Poem - Flowers in the End