There is no beauty
in people dreaming
a safe haven away
from corrupted duty
to predatory scheming
by plutocrats astray
with executive booty
for their corporate class
to lazily feast and play
from late Pleistocene,
their devious ilk arisen
out of the common mass
in passionate struggle
over dominant breeding
by brute, jealous men
whose head-hunting terror
and cannibal seeding
grew trees of knowledge
to imagine experiments
and over the Ages invent
these radical machines
and scientific instruments
so refined and attuned
they twist out secrets
of Nature's innate power
to support or terminate
these spreading populations
who suppose they're immune
to the growing tons of trash
and creeping contamination,
their ecocidal progress
so out of control
yet easily assume
escape to the stars
from moribund Earth
scanning and plotting
new worlds to consume
and refuse to be told
there's too far to go
and no way home,
although this poor tribune
yet strives to unfold
what all need to know
in post, essay and poem.

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John Talbot Ross