where can a man go anymore
to get some quiet and peace
and leave behind the breeding morass
with their mini-vans and screaming brats
raised on fast food and sugared drinks
tv in the back of the car and cell phones at hand

noise unrelenting from dawn to dawn
lights drowning out the stars
people packed together like ants
living cheek to cheek
even so called wilderness
is jammed with these sheep playing games

air pollution's turning the air brown
acid rain's eating the mountain rock
watered lawns drain the river's flow
uncaring feet tear down the very earth
where's a man to go anymore
without finding someone's trash



©2003 These works are copyrighted by the author and all rights are reserved. Theft will be punished by having your nipples rubbed with a cheese grater. Unless of course you like that sort of thing, in which case you'll be made to listen to telemarketers and tel-evangelists until you give them all your money.
- posted by Roadkill Poet @ 2:44 PM