Waste Lot Want Lot

We’re the ones
that live in rot.
Fields of trash
that we forgot.
Our poisoned future
is Apathy’s plot.

We fail to think
how to recycle.
Trapped in our own
excusing cycle.
“We’re too busy”
No, just too fucking idle.

It’s so easy to point
the blaming finger.
When you’re stuck
in your cosy lounger.
Stuffing your face
with processed dinners.

Robotic actions
set to automatic.
Shove it all
in the bin – tick.
Conscience occupied
by Entertainment Stick.

We’re given bins
to sort our shit.
but our ignorance
will have none of it.
Why change now
there’s still a place to tip?

Out of sight
is out of mind.
Black bin beasts
on constant grind.
Ticking bombs
for humankind.
Gulls die
from eating plastic.
Marine life too
Aren’t we fantastic!?
Wait till the ground’s dead
Oh sorry, is that too drastic?

So how to fix
our devilled ways?
Tax our bins
see how that plays.
Hit our pockets
on pay days.

Yes, that should
fuck you up.
Enough to break
your mental rut.
And realise it’s right
to recycle the lot.

If we don’t change
then who will?
Small steps to cure
our planet’s illness.
So that one day we’ll
make the dumps stand still.

Don’t wait for packagers
to take some action.
They just wallow
in the profit faction.
The Gods of Profit’s
greedy distraction.

Politicians promise
with hidden lies.
To be greener
with our lives.
But those in power
had morals that died.

Our creatures endure
a life that’s stoic.
While sane solutions
are labelled rhetoric.
The truth be told
we’re just pathetic.

We’ve let this happen
blamed the modern age.
Ratted races trap
our clocks in bondage.
But I wish that Mother
could show her rage.

Punish her children
with drought and famine.
Shake our bones
till our guilt is hanging.
And our new-found sorrow
would make our tears sting.

We’ll start to repair
our broken belongings.
And learn to repurpose
trash into things.
That’s what I pray
our future brings.

Our one new voice
can start to sing.
How to take care
of everything.
Then finally,
we’ll heal nature’s skin!

So, the next time
your busy rubbishing.
Please stop and think
what you put in.
And stop the rot
of man’s buried sin!

Jason Conway is a poet from Gloucester, United Kingdom. He started writing poetry seriously in July 2016 after experiencing an epiphany whilst surfing at Woolacombe beach and was compelled to write a poem and he hasn’t looked back since. He uses the Pen Name of Th31nkWarri0r. Jason true passion for poetry began when he joined The Gloucester Poetry Society, a brand-new poetry group set up by a friend. He now performs and hosts open mic events locally.

Jason’s inspiration comes from lots of sources. He is also an artist, designer and photographer, and is constantly studying his surroundings for ideas and connections. Jason’s biggest inspiration is the natural world as he is very passionate about the environment and man’s progressive devastation to it.