Reader Submission: BLOOD OIL WARS

The PTO blog received this moving poetry submission from NuAnna Horn. Thank you for your words!

BLOOD OIL WARS

genocide at hand,
and the minions fall useless,
as the majority crumble and cry out
with no solution in our wake…

population of consumers,
maintaining what is fruitless,
resources, raped, tapped, and drained
inhabitance suffering our mistake…

our waters tainted,
in massive proportion
our blood oil war
spilled into the sea…

now, ocean’s poison painted,
and on the verge of our abortion
as lives are taken,
oil, replacing the lives beneath.

we are not the only inhabitance
of a planet that suffers at our misuse,
undefined boundaries lack perimeter
in avoiding the damages of our abuse.

how many soldiers lie buried,
hidden truths, entrenched in our mistakes…
fighting in wars that were monetary,
laying our planet, and each other’s bodies to waste?

the fish that cannot breathe
aquatic creatures dying,
the birds that cannot feed,
off the filth we are providing…

earth lain to waste,
air left in ruin,
waters drowning in oil…
and we have no solution.

we cower and condemn, and quake in our boots…
who can we call in now? …not our dead troops.
a suicide mission for the kamakazi warriors
to stop the earth’s emission- our provider, our destroyer…

where are they now?
the selfless heroes, on whom we depend?
our government, with solutions made of sacrifice
ready to aid, protect, and ready to defend…?

children in the noose, lain by our fathers;
resources in misuse, now flood the waters
decades gone by, architecture meant to last,
no solution to disaster, from our forefathers passed…

the fish drown in the sea,
cannot be made to sound right,
as from beneath the earth’s crust
leaks Atlantis’ eternal night.

How many have died,
been shot down or slaughtered,
for this ‘crude’ awakening
that now poisons the waters?

How many lands have been invaded,
lives, of every like, taken by storm…
as on the wings of our intrusions,
Earth retaliates, and disaster is born.

to circumvent what has come to pass,
is to travel back in time…
to an era of war, an age of industrialism,
from the ‘crude’ we have since ‘refined’…

we may curb our habits,
learn to limit our consumption,
yet, our species growth is rapid,
herein lies our conjunction:

to sustain our habitation,
is to sustain our Earth,
yet we are trained in self propagation
from our time of birth.

blood in the soil, from the wounds freshly spilled,
battles over oil, all the innocent that were killed…

lands wreaked with drama from centuries of war,
now ocean’s racked in the trauma of what they fought for…

we are the remnants of what will soon be amassed,
memory to a planet, when our turbulence has past.

pray for a solution to this disfunction,
while not progressing based on assumption.

we may start now, yet our folly’s in reward,
a planet being depleted by our blood oil wars.

Visit NuAnna Horn at Myspace

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