I am petroleum
I am coal
I am “natural” gas
Set me free
From my dark and stony hearth
My fiery nature lying in wait
Sow vent on destruction
And I will bequeath
Once-in-an-eon jobs
That you will blow
In your cracking and fracking
As so much money
With climate change to spare
Busy having
The tomb of your life
For when civilization collapses
And you are waste deep interred
With my underworld nature unleashed
Meting yours
I will catacomb your world
Exchanging your place for mine
And what remains of humanity
At best will see me
As know more than a sentimental fuel
Spewing out worthless airs
To the end of the earth
I find myself writing more and more poems about our environment, particularly about the crisis of climate change. This aptly reflects my conviction that dealing with climate change and establishing a sustainable harmony with mother nature is the biggest challenge that humanity faces this century. I feel confident saying this, even though we are still early in the century.
This poem is written as a first person poem, where carbon-based energy forms, long sequestered safely underground, encourage us to free them from their long-established place in nature. In this poem, the personification of carbon-based energy takes on a demonic, underworld character. The promise of “once-in-an-eon jobs” seems an offer more than generous enough to lock us unto our fossil fuelish addiction. Now, I don't believe in demons, surely none emanating from mother nature's bosom. But who needs hell when you have greedy and lazy humans who apparently would rather drown in their own waste than pay adequate respect to their mother. Humans have, in effect, made themselves a bunch of mothers — and not very good ones. This is original sin; the rest is derivative. I see no animus in mother earth. Still, nature does have boundaries with predictable feedback. If mother earth keeps have to dealing with all this human shit, then I expect mother earth will have enemas. And even us fans of the earth will get hit with it…
