Asylum

I'll spend these minutes making breakfast
Shrugging off the ugliness of outside life.
There's not a thing that I can do. The species,
For an unknown reason, seems intent on
Savagery, and toward that end, divides,
Then seeks to kill and maim its separate selves.
Each group elects a monstrous leader,
Someone bigoted and dull, who'll nudge
Them toward intolerance, applaud when
They're depraved. The planet runs a fever,
But, with every human hand intent on
Grasping, none will cool its head, and, over
Time, we'll all succumb. We'll lack for
Water, things to eat. We'll bake. That's
Fine. Then mankind will be gone,
That plague, that source of misery. I butter
Toast and fry some eggs, and shrug. I can
Control my kitchen. Cleaning up
The ugliness outside its window, I
Conclude, is something I don't have
The strength to do.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2020-03-29 at 18:22

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