Dreary Weary Hairy Possum

[Djjapp777]

Dreary weary hairy possum,
why are you out of your comfort abode?
Among the skyscraper blossum,
bleeding on the side of the road...
Was it this political capitalist nation,
kingdom of concrete and empty o-zone,
Self-indulging promoter of masturbation,
bulldozed and bashed your comfort home?
Or was it those herds of scrap,
smoke juggling shiny ground boats,
Constantly drained tanks with no gas cap,
that leave you where the soul and the flies float?
Most likely it was your fault of prey,
searching our sidewalks in search of food,
Mingling around on your own in the day,
unaware of owl quenching his hungry mood...
So I ask you dreary possum on your gravel deathbed,
now home for vultures and morning dew,
"Who was it that killed you and left you for dead?"
"My dear naive friend, it was you..."
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"On your planet, 1+1=2; On our planet, 1+1=1." - Ceiba

 

[Nietzche]

This poem brought to mind echos of the Phish song about the opossum . . . I really liked this poem. There was a large article in the recent National Geographic about urban sprawl . . . check it out if you get a chance.