A Poem: Petrol Dreams in the Wind

In the howl of the asphalt breeze,
Beneath the neon glow of our oil-lit dreams,
We dance on the precipice of desire,
Consuming the black gold, setting the world on fire.

Pipelines carve scars through the heartland,
Oil wells rise like monuments to our demand.
Protests echo, voices in the wilderness,
Yet, the drill rigs persist, relentless.

Solvents, motor oil, and ballpoint pens,
The rhythm of consumption never ends.
Ink-stained aspirations, diesel-fueled ambitions,
We’re the architects of our own petroleum prisons.

Football cleats kick up the dust of progress,
Upholstery wrapped in a fossil-fuel caress.
Bicycle tires roll on a path of excess,
Sports car bodies in a petroleum duress.

Dresses and sweaters, perfumes and shoes,
Each thread woven with petroleum hues.
Nail polish, fishing lures, and cassettes,
A tapestry of consumption that never forgets.

The petroleum symphony plays on,
In dishwashers, toolboxes, from dusk till dawn.
Motorcycle helmets and transparent tape,
In a world where consumption takes shape.

CD players spin tales of synthetic landscapes,
Shoe polish, petroleum jelly, a slippery escape.
Curtains drawn over our collective eyes,
As the oil wells sing their lullabies.

Antiseptics and clotheslines in a delicate dance,
Basketballs bouncing in a petroleum trance.
Vitamin capsules and purses of desire,
An inventory of consumption that fuels the fire.

Rubbing alcohol numbs the conscience,
Ice cube trays freeze the evidence.
Plastic wheels turning on the road to excess,
In a world intoxicated by petroleum’s caress.

Yet, in the shadows of this petroleum dream,
A whisper of change in the eternal stream.
Protesters march, demanding a pause,
For in our consumption lies nature’s loss.

The asphalt beat goes on, a rhythm untamed,
But in our hearts, a flicker, a flame.
To consume less, to break the chain,
In the wind of change, our dreams sustain.



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