Suburbia
Miles of malls and parking stalls,
for the upwardly mobile elite.
Gyms and walking trails,
for drivers to use their feet.
Gated enclaves to lock us in,
prisoners of our faux success.
Keeping up with the Joneses,
was never meant to be like this.
A milieu of mindless monotony,
sprawls out across the land.
Where animals once roamed,
and the stars shone bright at night.
But Utopia has crept in,
creating a frightful sight.
While suburbia may seem safe,
and full of meaningful life.
Its demise is clearly written,
in the long history of human strife.
For change is always coming,
and change is often harsh.
Suburbia is not equipped to survive,
like the often flooded marsh.
It gets its water from miles of pipes,
that will, eventually, grow parch.
It gets its power not from the sun,
but from the fragile grid.
That ego is firmly in place,
but does not know the id.
We are jousting windmills, my dear,
just like the flawed, El Cid.
Suburbia is dying right before our eyes,
sprawl is selling out for the lowest bid.
Copyright 2011 © Ronald W. Hull
11/11/11
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