I rose from your landfills,
the first blossom of this atomic age.
I ate steam trains, and with my tail
smashed your factories;
still, you did not understand.
You fix your eyes on the ground,
recycling your waste—while I pulse
like the sun with power beyond
fossil fuels. I am
the great lizard that walks
on you. I see your lips move
in noiseless supplication,
hear my name—seconds late,
out of sync. It is to me you pray.
~~~
NaPM poem from a few years ago. I did some updates, and wondered if it was worth developing.
Minor edit: considered some of Paul's comments and did a touch up not a full edit. Still thinking it over.
the first blossom of this atomic age.
I ate steam trains, and with my tail
smashed your factories;
still, you did not understand.
You fix your eyes on the ground,
recycling your waste—while I pulse
like the sun with power beyond
fossil fuels. I am
the great lizard that walks
on you. I see your lips move
in noiseless supplication,
hear my name—seconds late,
out of sync. It is to me you pray.
~~~
NaPM poem from a few years ago. I did some updates, and wondered if it was worth developing.
Minor edit: considered some of Paul's comments and did a touch up not a full edit. Still thinking it over.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson