The Universe’s Most Unfortunate Planet

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When all that we hear is buzzing,

and the politicians have finished bluffing,

many will say

that our state of decay

even the blind saw coming.

We welcome more crops –

this year, a surplus of corn, next year, a surplus of rot,

under the guise,

that we're thriving,

when we all know we're not.

Nearsightedness blinds us to the flies

while more boys die–

crossing the desert, crossing the street,

in their homes and at sea–

in 2020 with static we all hear their cries.

Grinning, the angel of death,

with putrid bated breath–

there’s a fly on his eye,

but it’s too dry to cry,

standing in hell’s holy hearth.

Soon, we'll have more deaths than births,

and we're searching for look-a-like Earths –

the alarms are all ringing,

the Fat Lady’s singing,

it seems that we're God's greatest curse.