For some insignificant seconds
Our species’ stranglehold on the planet has eased.
Abundance has ceased being manifested.
Dreams are done.
Planes and ships not built fast enough, have stopped carrying
the deserving multitudes shoulder to
arse, head to crotch non-stop
To find their get-out-of-my-fucking-way bliss.
Others waver, still not convinced, want to feel
The flame, push others over the cliff for a view, to hell
With the curve let’s ride the wave to flatten the front-
Line, obliterate the old, pitch the poor.
It’s so simple for crowds
To disappear, silence to settle, to die, but
Be the last goddammit to die beautiful.
Andrew Binks 