Environmental Prostitution Poem by Gianni Pansensoy

As expected! Before my eyes,
the day of reckoning arrives.

Ducks are dying, feather rots,
delirious are those buffaloes,
death drips from their nostrils,
deveined shrimp floats, shell melts,
deboned fish sinks, scale dies.

Still, silver mine is discharging cyanide,
hill below is murdered along with its pride,
thrill flows on the river, it smells insecticide,
drill more mines, there are silvers inside,
kill and kill us, you are a pesticide.

Legislators, sitting intellectual pimps,
manors, mines, legislated and sold like prostitutes,
ours, the virgin land, their brothels.