Death of the Unpolluted

The current administration’s reversal of key environmental directives and what appears to be a blatant dismantling of the EPA and other regulatory departments has the potential to set the U.S. back decades in environmental policy and contribution to climate change and global warming. As I noted in last month’s article it will be up to end users, corporations and advancements in technology including in the ICT industry to keep us on tract.

If I died today, would you know?

Would your bubble burst to let your glowing hands show,

The stalling, falling, dying slow?

Would you listen above the noise?

Or lift your head up from your blinking toys,

To see my world, your world, come crumbling down?

Would you even make a sound?

Or, would you,

Bury your head in the politician’s word,

Never truthful but always heard.

“In Progress’ name we must pollute,

To make that dollar is resolute!”

“We must consume, and then consume some more!”

Then toss away like the whore.

If I died today, would you miss me?

Would you just file me as history?

To be looked up, cooked up, and reminisced?

Of your toes in my airy midst,

Feeling my touch, my warmth, my love,

While you smile from above?

Would you notice when you play,

Out in what was once above the fray,

That I am no longer here today?

Or, would you,

Carry on without a thought,

Just like the politician who’s been bought.

Let toxic sludge at water’s edge,

To push your stock funds with a hedge,

That it does not affect you in the here and now,

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As you stand within this rotting cow,

Who drank from the river you ignored,

All the while being bored,

By facts and figures from Science galore,

With whom the politicians abhor.

If I died today, would you care?

Would you notice I’m not there?

To let you breath clean air?

Would you come looking for where I went,

All the while being hell bent,

On resurrection, atonement of sins,

To understand why I’ve been,

Here for millions to enjoy,

Or will you work to continue to destroy?

You put me through these silly games

Of trying to live through the torturous pain,

Caused by you and your ill-gotten gains.

These games weren’t funny,

But smug are you with your money.

These games were wrong,

As it has been you killing me all along.

I died today because of you,

And now your life is just as through.

There is no clean air to breath,

Or un-scorched earth to heave.

No crisp water to quench your thirst,

As your leaden pipes continue to burst.

Flora and Fauna are no more,

As if in a way to settle the score.

So, there you sit, alone, glowing screen in hand

All across this barren land.