POEM: Tomorrow Asks The Question

The Future Asks Of UsBy Mark Cantrell

 

All the dead souls

Living now

Demand of us to know,

What waste of life and ruined hope

Shall they be left to reap?

In our mindless demand for consumer comfort,

Our constipated expression of mind conceited,

The pursuit of pleasure,

Denial of pain, of starvation in the midst of plenty,

Shall we coax a Hell for all to come,

Our children, doomed to linger in our wake?

What poisoned chalice do we bequeath

All those dead souls

Who follow, not yet born, their lives alr...