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Iolanthe Woulff

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  A British Petroleum Afternoon
by Iolanthe Woulff
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Rated "G" by the Author.

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Recent poems by Iolanthe Woulff
•  Purple Pickles
•  La Vieja Loca
•  The Bug
•  The Callous Sophisticate
•  The Web
           >> View all 56


Not much more to say, is there?


It’s a British Petroleum afternoon!

Miles of containment booms nicely coiled,

all of the seabirds completely oiled,

thousands of sea turtles cooked or boiled,

beautiful beaches forever spoiled,

so drill, baby, drill!

 

It’s a British Petroleum afternoon.

Bankrupted shrimpers who sailed the blue,

ruined by square miles of petro-goo,

wait in a government handout queue,

wondering what in the hell they’ll do,

so drill, baby, drill!

 

It’s a British Petroleum afternoon.

Corporate criminals counting dough,

watching their bonuses grow and grow,

paying for lobbyists as they go,

thereby ensuring the oil will flow,

so drill, baby, drill!

 

It’s a British Petroleum afternoon.

Burning the water while dolphins fry,

smoke columns dot the pellucid sky,

everything living begins to die,

nothing to do now, I guess, but cry.

So drill, baby.

Drill.

 

LW

 

 

 




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Reviewed by John Flanagan 7/30/2010
Fine work, Lannie, this well-crafted contempt for greed, greed at the expense of all that's natural and innocent.
Yes!

John
Reviewed by Ed Matlack 7/29/2010
What else can be said as you've said it all...ed
Reviewed by D Johnson 7/29/2010
Lannie, right on!

Cheers,
Dan
Reviewed by Dayvid Graybill 7/29/2010
You're so right Lannie! Nothing more to say! Well written piece.

Peace,
Dayvid

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Iolanthe Woulff



She's My Dad

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