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in Oil we trust...

Concrete claws challenge the sky
Sacred stairs towards a glazed heaven.
Glass and steel that shimmers
Like statues of gods standing high.

Black liquor leached from nearby sand
To quench the parched prayers of bankers
The earth’s entrails full of hell’s holes
That smote deep gashes across arid land

We worship this iconoclastic creation.
But these aren’t built solid on rock
But are parables of straw on desert sand,
An idolatry of oil production.

Comes the storm and the clouds turn dark
When financial ashes blows across
There’s no comfort in Fibonacci charts
No salvation in a concrete ark

April 2010

poem by Roy Lee
Added by Poetry Lover
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