Black Cloud

Standing on the edge of
the Deepwater Horizon, mind
drilled with porous thoughts
while black clouds swirl,
from the depths and keep rising

They said it would riposte,
come back cataclysmically reeling
into the seasons
or perhaps this saltwater
comes foaming at the
tidelines like dogs with rabie-drip
bites, and mouths seething

The Great Plague returns...
in the Gulf of Despair
maybe we only care
when seeing little ducks
black slicked-back hair,
paralyzed by petroleum
wrapped in this oil still
when Mumble gets killed-
that's when we truly feel
Happy Feet don't tap,
no words explain
When ink spills to the page,
I am abstained by splotches
and stains, but nothing wipes
these suffering eyes
from tiny feathers which can't fly
leaving oil-clot tumors
in my brain.

Mismanagement by the Dept.
of Minerals Management Services, an
MMS protection swept under the rug,
seems as if worthless when they can't
admit they hemorrhaged the ocean
floor's surface, not even on purpose
A fail-safe mechanism failing,
can you claim fault for
all the death which you've brung?
Blowout results in thousands
lives lost, yet BP fuel
can't think of anything but
"What's the cost?"

The true color of this substance
not black; but green
a currency paid for with shores
which were once clean, sprung
for profit- actually the colors may
be red, white and blue

Addiction to oil, we consume, consume
consume, consume, consume, consume
these fumes leak, seep through pipes
which we then spew, out into the nature
we once raped to stake a claim
to a 'Land of promise' yet we knew
snapped the treaty between ourselves
and the mother Earth,
for any worth- with an inverse
geyser, gusher, cyclone
of poison; a cancer hurricane
convulsing out of control
so tell me- executives, oil tyrants,
blood pumping gas butchers
what is the going
rate for
your soul?

(c)Paul LaTorre 2010