by Darren Swift
They are used up and used out
forced to search amongst the stars
while the earth dies alone, defunct.
Interstellar colonists combing
an old night sky for a new home;
they wander, slow, steady across the ages.
They find new worlds, ready, waiting,
wanting, their seeds spread in fertile soils;
their number and dominion swells.
Those others they meet become subsumed,
drowned beneath the weight of humanism;
the fields well tended, the altars stocked.
"Lesser" beings shackled, cattled
until the short sharp shock begins to work;
the ascent of man begins anew.
It has been seen before, (Maori),
but man cannot help himself, (Aborigine),
superiority through stupidity attained, (Arapahoe).
Then, as if to prove they have learnt nothing,
they fly between the gaps
leaving coke cans in the spaces between.
Posted on 03/15/2006
Copyright © 2022 Darren Swift
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Anne Engelen on 03/16/06 at 08:05 AM|
thought provoking. Good read!
|Posted by Amy Niggel on 04/05/06 at 06:20 PM|
I love the last stanza... how incredibly true. Great work.
|Posted by Mara Meade on 08/25/06 at 10:43 PM|
History, and indeed, the well-catalogued reactions and impulses of mankind repeats itself over and over. "When will they ever learn?" That is my take on this poem... and I liked what I read.
|Posted by Mara Meade on 08/25/06 at 10:45 PM|
reference: Pete Seeger's "Where Have All The Flowers Gone?"