By J.J. Tindall
Confession to the Future
I strove for wealth and sorely failed,
I did not save a single whale.
I did not raise my children well,
I told my friends to go to hell.
I did not know my neighbor’s name,
I juried love a callow game.
I scorched the earth to fight for fame,
I stole a march on any shame.
I greeted fools with charming grace
then wiped that smile right off their face.
I cheated on schoolwork, taxes, wives,
then pleaded innocence all my life.
I sold the farm for booze and coke,
I relished vicious ethnic jokes.
I bought the biggest car I could,
I dumped my garbage in the woods.
I sold insurance on people’s health
then prayed they’d die to spare my wealth.
I proffered bonds on people’s homes
then jacked the price and rigged the loans.
I razed the forests to drill for oil,
I fouled the air and drugged the soil.
I said anything to get elected
then assured my interests were protected:
wildlife crushed to bone and ash,
mountains scarred with gouge and gash,
rivers poisoned drop by drop,
farmland rendered fetid slop.
Thus your Martian tundra reigns,
deserts, bog-holes, acid rain.
Thus you needn’t send to know
which rake made your world of woe.
Always me. It was me. It was me.
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J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
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More Tindall:
* Music: MySpace page
* Fiction: A Hole To China
* Critical biography at e-poets.net
Posted on March 23, 2010