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And the dawn lit up the fire of the accelerated rust
That was attacking the face of that exposed, metal, armless, bust
Nothing in this life is forever, or forever lasts
Except some deep forgotten secret, in our mind, from the past
And decay happens, even to personifications of the language of love
Decay happens, even to the delicate petals of the rosebud
What happens to the spark of life, from Love sown?
Why does the product have to grow up and die alone?
And the birds did continue to sing, amongst the decay
Whilst we pump into nature, the toxins that technology will pay
And the acid air, that we all continue to breathe
Is manufactured in the pursuit of the profit and the slease
As we upset and rape the balance of nature
And pay lip service to it in our schools and lecture theatres
It will fight back, with the most deadly force
And will end up destroying ourselves, of course.

Georges.

Hooray! George is back!*


I hope you enter the contest.



YdF

* I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

Thanks for the welcomes, YDF. I very much appreciate it.
Georges.

Welcome back to the lousy little ones, Georges.

As we upset and rape the balance of nature
And pay lip service to it in our schools and lecture theatres
It will fight back, with the most deadly force
And will end up destroying ourselves, of course.

Unfortunately this is so true. The complexity of the ecological dependencies omnipresent in Nature is far beyond the control capacity of humans and / or simple machines. (And all our machines are essentially trivial machines.)

As long as we are arrogant enough to believe we could master Nature, there is little hope of mankind surviving.



Ours is to sing and dance, however, even though we might as well be sitting on Krakatau in early August 1883...

Tom

Thanks for the welcomes and the comments, Tom. Much appreciated.
Georges.

Yay! Welcome back Kotter!

Great poem George! I wonder what is that "metal...bust"?
A recent radio program I heard travelling in my car talked about the fundamental difference between old and modern world thinking. Eg. the ancient Greeks and Romans lived with a great fear of being forgotten after they died. Hence busts, statues (Ozymandias), temples and epic poems etc. Our great fear in the modern world is to forget who we are- to lose our memory before we lose our life (alzheimers). Mmmm, is there a poem in that?

Cheers, Witty.

Thanks Witty and Insanitor for your welcomes. Ozymandias is a great poem by Shelly, the metal bust is a modernism.......perhaps it's a wonder bra?
Georges.

Witty Owl ~

I didn't realize that about the ancient Greeks and Romans, though I can clearly see it now that it's been said. So true about our modern fears of loss of self preceding loss of life. Great input. "Welcome back, Kotter" ~ I like and second that, Georges!

~ Lizzy