up in the morning before the sun rises

     too early too fucking early

lately it seems unwilling to disperse

clouds covering this ravaged land in

wet blankets of filthy crushing wool

     please god let it rain

unable to bleed to release its captured seed

not at all the one I’d rather stay under

     just another 15 minutes it’s

warm and sure in the familiar darkness of

my included cell paid for with weakened back and

bones still hours before I’ll see its welcome glow

     so uncomfortably bright and hot

wake the horizon deafened defeated by machinery

the beauty of the rising sun reveals the

     this hell I work in where

gas flares burn in sulfurous

pools scorching hazy sulfate air and

water is polluted with chemicals

     people grant rights with lives by the hour

protected by patents and governed libel

while replacing in unfiltered abundance

     to those with enforced determination

limited life stamped and trampled

     flowing and bleeding beneath us on

sacred ground under gestapo boots

     while the innocent plead ignorance

and the whole of us are

     defiled by greed

Satellite image of active gas flares provided by Skytruth.

Published by J M Greff

J M Greff is the rambling author, trucker philosopher, peace loving hippie, spiritual warrior, backpacking pantheist, wandering minstrel, and poet fool who created A Caravan of One for you. View all posts by J M Greff