Treasure Island

David SmithWhite

(270552 / Australia)


I know, the world is a blot.
Breeding, cruel hatreds and plot.
Some win, but most of us lose;
only the rich can live as they choose.

Some say, it's a base human fault.
In some way, always caught short.
One day, some wit will retort:
it's in the nature of gods
to play God for good sport.

I know, the world is a blot.
A greenhouse, uncommonly hot.
I go, about it a lot.
I've seen it ravaged as often as not.

I know, the world is a blot.
Oil wells, puncture and spot,
landscapes, of garbage and rot,
bleeding the planet and starting to clot.

I know, the world is a blot.
It goes, from the year dot.
Life dies, and we know squat;
we are as programmed as coins in a slot!

I know, the world is a blot.
Who cares, a whit or a jot?
Eden, has sure gone to pot!
What kind of future have we really got?

Submitted: Saturday, September 03, 2005
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