Sunday, October 26, 2014

Acid Rain

by Elliot

White electric knife splits the sky in two;
heaven's screams resound against earth's walls.
Her clouds explode, and the rain breaks through -
life-giving liquid, like clear blood, falls
upon her children's drought-parched lips. Craving
in self-blind voracity. Spitting back
filthy pollution in thanks for saving
the greenery they turned black.
Now listen to who's screaming in sick pain
while the sweet, life-giving water cascades
as putrid acidic death, tearing up organisms 
with its toxic blades.

Once more, our causes can't see their effects.
What, just what will we blindly undo next?