THE PLANET

THE PLANET

In my poem I mentioned ‘THE PLANET’

I didn’t plan it, but

when I mentioned ‘THE PLANET’

I was bestowed with the wisdom

of a modernist soothsayer.

When I mentioned ‘NO CARS’,

and I did plan it,

I was called ‘Arsehole!’

How can we do without cars?

‘Arsehole, Arsehole!!’.

When I mentioned save ‘THE PLANET’

I was applauded, and that plaudit

was for dropping the word ‘plastic’.

They brought me flowers wrapped in plastic,

grown in heated arguments.

Why on Earth 

does ‘THE PLANET’ bestow 20-20 vision

to the blind visionary who sees

the mote in our eye?

Who will be the last gravedigger?

Who will carve ‘THE PLANET’ in alabaster,

and put the cemetery moonlight out?

Lay a fresh tablecloth over ‘THE PLANET’

prepare a banquet for the hyperthermophiles.

No crumbs of comfort.
The last supper of Homo sapiens is over.