Depending On Who You Ask Poem by Robin Bennett

I think I shall stay inside-
where it is safe.
Earth is ripe,
with more than bad apples,
volcanoes rise,
spitting liquid orange rage;
the American west blows ash,
from thousands of chimneys on fire.

Mud is now just skeleton dust-
and the forest is now a,
giant candle wick.
Fires multiply like,
baby bunnies in the spring.
That dry heat creeps on,
sun powered and strangely
determined.

The square states are all
engulfed in dry heaves.
California decided to stop
begging for tourists, she's
on sabbatical with a raging
fever.

To hell in a hand basket, I say.
Catholics are blaming,
an angry God or Satan
depending on who you ask.
The Mormons are worried
they will have to leave Utah.
I heard Scientologists are
blaming Katie Holmes.