1
His, a vision grabbing
Of lands scoured, cleaved
A violence upon her trees, animals, peoples, culture, time
Chained and ploughed in
A subjugated sterile mule of land
Where only Monsanto grows
2
His, a vision pretended
The forest a wilderness ended
Not animals, not plants, not people
Displaced, deserted to a desolate fringe
Of cleared impotent soil
Old growth, now plantations
3
His, a vision blinded
With fattened wallets
Woodchip coins change hands
While hungry trucks and dozers
Crush moon-dust tracks
Into the barren impotent riparian
4
His, a vision lifeless
Specicide enabled entitled
Lizards with coke can helmets
Writhe and roll in roadside gutters
Flashing white underbellies
Beside plastic eternal iced coffees
5
His, a vision blasted
From poisonous craters
Blighted hills, missing mountains
Lost men feeding at the trough
A land untouched, un-dug, un-mined
Is a profit missed
6
His, a boom-time
Corporate erections distended
Come suckle from her teat
Lap at her open cut
Peeled apart gaping, up for sale
To the highest bidder or lowest tender
7
His, a vision strangled
Black boys pendulum from a sheet
Staring timeless, lifeless, from yellow-cake eyes
Across a land where profit is shovelled
From a place and race incarcerated
Where cell bars are the barcodes of loss
(Copyright Andrew James Macleod 2019)
Andrew James Macleod 