Werner Schmidt Poems
Comments about Werner Schmidt
Good Day, Werner, Herewith Your Account For Your Monthly Breathing
PAY NOW flashes on my mobile screen.
Yes, friends, only a matter of time.
What else is left to be commoditised?
Rocks that roll and heavy metal, plus
liquid gold that explodes inside engines
have all but been sucked out of Mother's belly.
Markets and governments - partners -
are left only with trash and air, in a way.
Gold rush, diamond rush, oil rush.
Garbage rush, with no time to waste.
How many wild animals still run free, truly free?
Not 'free' inside a reserve with shocking sides
and ample infrastructure.
In other words, when
Stuck On You
Steam rises from my cupped hands.
Sickle Moon dances on my black rooibos tea.
Dirty, orange City Night Sky.
Trying not to blink. What am I looking at?
On a slow, hot summer afternoon
we watched our little prince flash
from his favourite branch and
smack down onto concrete.