Poet, having read your words; I wanted you to know <br />that I can see the trees you planted as I chop down <br />the hardest wood for my fires. I used the vacated <br />bird nests you guarded like a fanatic steward for kindling; <br />the birds having all moved into their new government <br />subsidized gated condo communities down south. Poet, <br />having considered your elitist and liberal metaphors; I find them <br />to be plagiaristic and cliché at best…and similar to the precious trees <br />you attempt to protect, they are a but another renewable <br />source of fuel for the woodchucks and beavers like me <br />who are in need of expressing an occasional Damn! <br />Poet, green is no longer just the color of envy <br />but in has become the color of your gods… <br />And because I am forewarned, I am so forearmed with knowledge <br />to defeat your poor examples and attempts at self expression. <br />Poet, having gone into the wilderness; hugged the trees and bunnies <br />you have still failed to silence the wind and blasphemous dissuader <br />who dehorts all of your creations as politics. <br />And although I am just a reader, you should know <br />I am not a believer in search of a cause…. <br /> <br />2008 © T Sheridan<br /><br />Ted Sheridan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/green-gods-and-agnostic-readers-of-compost/
