I linger over twisted turns of prose
Trying to make words hang together right
To no avail, and therefore I suppose
In poetry I take refuge tonight.
The information inundates me fast
And furious—what's the matter with the world—
As humankind, it seems, will be the last
To understand how much has been imperiled.
To correlate and tabulate it all
Sentences fail, nor find I any answer
To myriad questions; come another Fall
May it obliterate this human cancer.
It seems that mankind wages war against
All that is natural in the world; will slaughter
The true and innocent, and war commenced
Contaminates the land and poisons water.
The air we breathe, becomes hypocrisy;
The various loves we vow to one another
Foul travesty—nor can one ever be
In conscience free exploiting of a brother.
Words fail me: little lambs led to the slaughter
Bleating their fears, will haunt my waking dreams,
While parents hide the truth from son and daughter
Painting a world that light and sweetness seems.
How far from truth, the wretched lies we tell,
The worst we tell ourselves, until, grown weary,
We long for death, and pray escape from hell
When images of heaven falter dreary.