Factory Climate Change Industry Chimney Pollution

The long whine of cyclones, in your nasal voice,
As you wait for climate change,
To come with force, using borrowed names
Like El nino and La nina.
And you’re just a stooge of the weather,
Dancing when the sun lifts and cloud cover is scanty,
While you gather your palms together,
When the early weather forecast
Reminds you that there is a hurricane
On the cards. When you become,
A scapegoat of the emissions, the greenhouse gases,
Those plumes emitting from large chimneys,
With nothing to take pleasure in,
That stuffy feeling, a little claustrophobia,
That makes us put the fans on,
And put our futures in the hands
Of a few, learning that there are no arks
For climate change, and no Noah,
The chosen one, and all we can do,
Is fortify our homes, and carry umbrellas,
And wait for the destruction,
The type that deracinates large trees
And carves through brick houses
And leaves nothing behind, not even hope,
Debunking that truth we all know,
And are stocked inside our flagrant minds.
How awful to know that this is all anthropogenic,
Man-made, knowledge-designed,
And no storm will spare you,
Or that man with a comb-over, chasing his hair,
Learning that playing catch up,
Is never easy, for our past sins, our crimes
Against vegetation, that unfolded Climate Change.
And a planet with little greenery, is only a stooge
To the inevitable, the mercury inside
Thermometers rising, our futures capsized
On a Goldilocks planet, reminding ourselves,
That one home is all we’ve got.

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