The Grass is Greener in Cuba

The sky darkens, waiting for daybreak -
wasting time kills like poison and the ruins
of civilization sits in market value. Destruction
for profit; we bleed the earth dry and the
horizon clouds in lieu of protection. The skyscrapers
in Dubai reflect Chicago designs; they must have been
out of their mind – lights, like bacteria, infect the
world as we conquer the final frontier. Rabbits in
Tasmania; a plague of Americans in Iraq; the
fire wasn't bright enough until flesh was added
to the flames. The pollution never leaves us
alone – we pulled the plug on ourselves; in mindless
suicide of a species. It's no longer a game when the
hospital patches up cancer with a bandage. Paralyzed
by Chernobyl in Japan and lunatics who feel pride
behind a flag. Copenhagen continues in Mexico -
talk all you want, but it's still only talk. The best ideas
won't raise the dead; the trepidation before the
anthropogenic apocalypse. Presenting the pyramids, by
slaves in the desert sand and nothing has changed as
the world moves on. When the winter is warm and
the air is bitter with methane then freedom doesn't
matter. When you choke on every breath, there is no
time for compromise. Will skyscrapers grace the Sudan;
or is there some sick beauty in poverty? Celestial vultures
orbit the rotting carcass of broken promises and failed
politics. And the failed attempts by those with money
to give away only cause starvation. Smug countries,
on hands and knees, refuse to acknowledge the one who
outshines them all; but the grass is greener in Cuba. Yet
communism is rejected as sandcastles crumble and
are reclaimed by the sea. The high-tide in Tibet; the salt
mutilates the rice and the melting snow feeds the growing
depths. The Solomon islands will disappear like New York;
building on the coast seemed a grand idea. The danger is fun
and at least the view is good as we burn down the Brooklyn bridge.
We're only trading fortunes but the price remains the same; the
highways in Seoul carve the grass; a hairline fracture on
a withered, old face. The stench is broken by monsters of
metal and flesh; the blood soaks the olive tree in an
attempt of restoration. But peace will not restore
memories of a better time; with trees and leopards forgotten.
Religion is global schizophrenia that will destroy the world
as the carbon fuels the economy. With rogue cars in Ethiopia
running down starving children; the weight of the world
grows with every mouthful. When it rains, it burns like acid
and storm-clouds of smoke and smog hide the remorse of a
broken planet.