The Drones of Death

The Drones of Death fly silently to all corners of the land
and turn the fertile wilderness into dead, drifting sand.
The Drones of Death are corporate slaves, they look like you or me
they come to end our freedom, they kill all that they see.
Each morning in the mirror I look and see their face;
I bow my head in horror, and feel a deep disgrace.
For it is us, the Drones of Death, to us they do provide
and scattered out behind us is the death we try to hide.
Each one of us is guilty, the sanctimonious and all
for we have simply lived our lives, ignoring Gaia’s call.
The pain that she is feeling is palpable and strong
and we all seem to forget this is where we belong.
We can’t go live on Pluto, Mars or our golden moon
yet if we do not stop the damage we may have to soon
So put aside your muesli and stand up for what matters;
put aside your Latte before the whole world’s left in tatters.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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