Poem: Conzoomerism, as the World Burns

We amble in as if we owned the place,

then slow to a museum-gawker’s pace

to stare spellbound at acquired treasure

that conjures dreams of a golden leisure

as advertised on whichever screen

and every upscale magazine,

encouraging us to buy and buy,

for the economy must grow or die.

Thus, our zip-code selves are traded,

mined, and stored, ourprivacy invaded,

and our movements tracked as if by

a company gumshoe or private eye.

The press is in on the consumer game,

hustling glamor, bewitched by fame.

And while the occasional article

may remind us of the global hell

we have some role in stoking,

Fashion and Travel go on stroking,

urging readers to follow fashion

and fly to exotic places on vacation,

leaving their carbon imprint in the air,

and lastingly in the atmosphere.

Commercial-saturated TV is doubly

shy of taking on the climate story.

Meanwhile, the fossil-fuel people

lubricate our politics with oil

and contaminate the Senate floor

with every purchased orator.

Pulpit preachers, as a golden rule,

shun politics. But is not silence criminal

when God’s creation is at stake.

Speak! Speak out for Heaven’s sake!