Oskar Hansen


Climate Summit - Poem by Oskar Hansen

The Climate Summit
It was the tail end of a dream, two white feathers in my bed,
which can mean two things either I`m coward, or an angel slept
by my side giving me the strength concerning the climate session
in Paris not to be cynical about it and all will be well in the end
there will only be red Indians left.
Wonder what they get for dinner, top notch food the French like
to show off their culinary skills venison with truffles and the best
of wines and – but they do smoke some awful cigarettes and later
a Moulin Rouge nightclub the best of taste titillating red feathers
and the street outside not lined by trees, but by ladies of the night
usually, ex-dancers now too old for the stage, and before the delegate
go home some with syphilis or HIV, they will agree that the meeting
was a jolly success and promises given in the climatic movement
not kept by China and USA or for that matter India.
The Climate Summit
It was the tail end of a dream, two white feathers in my bed,
which can mean two things either I`m coward, or an angel slept
by my side giving me the strength concerning the climate session
in Paris not to be cynical about it and all will be well in the end
there will only be red Indians left.
Wonder what they get for dinner, top notch food the French like
to show off their culinary skills venison with truffles and the best
of wines and – but they do smoke some awful cigarettes and later
a Moulin Rouge nightclub the best of taste titillating red feathers
and the street outside not lined by trees, but by ladies of the night
usually, ex-dancers now too old for the stage, and before the delegate
go home some with syphilis or HIV, they will agree that the meeting
was a jolly success and promises given in the climatic movement
not kept by China and USA or for that matter India.

Topic(s) of this poem: weather


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 1, 2015



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