Tilting At Windmills

There’s bloody windmills everywhere – too many for my lance;
if I should take them all on I wouldn’t stand a chance.
Maybe I’m getting older but I’m much wiser too;
I can’t fight every battle I’ll lose all if I do.
I stand and watch the world go down drainage hole
and I really cannot figure out, just what is their goal.
They know the world is dying, the victim of their greed;
mayhaps they’ve built a monster that they all now must feed.
One giant worldwide factory that does nought but consume
and leads us all on blindly to our own corporate doom.
There is no Spirit left here, we are the deaths ghastly drones
and underneath the weight of us poor Gaia simply groans.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
This entry was posted in Green Poetry, Life. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s