The air is grey, thick with dust <br />The sky as dark as a secret lust <br />The wind is howling through barren trees <br />It carries the filth from the factories <br /> <br />The rivers run red where once they ran blue <br />The fish that were plenty are now but a few <br />The ducks and the geese are conceding their space <br />To the flotsam and jetsam of this human race <br /> <br />The oceans are heavy, filled with the spoils <br />Of man and his greed for the money from oils <br />Fishes, seabirds and dolphins too <br />Suffer in silence the damage we do <br /> <br />The forests are dying, there seems no escape <br />The deserts are growing as the land is raped <br />Animals and birds that once had a home <br />Will die in their thousands as aimless they roam <br /> <br />But the man in the suit on the 21st floor <br />Has made a decision like many before <br />Though the land may suffer and people may die <br />Who will care and who will ask why <br />For there's profit aplenty employment assured <br />We'll change the labels, ship them abroad <br />And if there's a scandal or political row <br />We'll deny all knowledge of where when and how <br />But the day will arrive when the oceans will swell <br />And life on this earth will be a living hell.<br /><br />Paul Christopher Henry<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-future-65/
