Bruce Hayno


No warmth in the sun
A place where frost doesn't bite
Felled are the trees
Not a plant in sight

Black is the sky
The stars no more shine
Black is the ground
Hard, barren, brine

No longer stand martyrs
No more men of true worth
Yet higher we climb
God gives us a wide berth

Vessels bulging with ichor
To gods we are transcended
We are the sovereigns
Life are the peasants

A vision so tranquil
A distorted reality
Gaea is dead
Industry roams free

Utopia, Utopia, Utopia
Paradiso materialized
inferno, inferno, Inferno
The Devil's domain is what we've human-ized

Submitted: Saturday, March 22, 2014
Edited: Saturday, March 22, 2014
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Topic of this poem: reality

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

This is my first poem. I was inspired to write it after reading The Hollow Men by T.S. Elliot. I hope you enjoy!

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