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Rated: E · Poetry · Environment · #2205112
We are being buried alive.
I woke from a dream
my heart soaring
my mind spinning
the ideas spiraling
as my waking consciousness
attempted to hold the thoughts intact

I woke from a dream
my question answered
my heart racing
my hand keeping pace
frantic to write the words
of my solution to pollution

A creation of giant conveyors
that carries debris from the ocean
brought in by the boats of nations
to be thrown into the endless fires
of volcanoes
to burn so fast and hot
no harmful emissions are lost

I capture the idea
I stare at the idea
I consider the idea
and then I realize
I do not know whom to tell
My idea sits useless
perhaps to be thrown into the trash
added to the growing garbage pile
as my world is slowly buried alive

Gerald Gabriel
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