The Future Poem by Paul Christopher Henry

The air is grey, thick with dust
The sky as dark as a secret lust
The wind is howling through barren trees
It carries the filth from the factories

The rivers run red where once they ran blue
The fish that were plenty are now but a few
The ducks and the geese are conceding their space
To the flotsam and jetsam of this human race

The oceans are heavy, filled with the spoils
Of man and his greed for the money from oils
Fishes, seabirds and dolphins too
Suffer in silence the damage we do

The forests are dying, there seems no escape
The deserts are growing as the land is raped
Animals and birds that once had a home
Will die in their thousands as aimless they roam

But the man in the suit on the 21st floor
Has made a decision like many before
Though the land may suffer and people may die
Who will care and who will ask why
For there's profit aplenty employment assured
We'll change the labels, ship them abroad
And if there's a scandal or political row
We'll deny all knowledge of where when and how
But the day will arrive when the oceans will swell
And life on this earth will be a living hell.