The litany of green

[DieterM]

I don’t like green
the smelly pallid shades of mint
of sage pistachio olive
the funereal moss the gloomy pine
the Stygian juniper or seaweed
or worst of all the snick’ring glare
of lime of pear of parakeet
I don’t like green
don’t tell me it means
life nature balance energy renewal—bah!
I don’t like spring
standing in my office legs spread
hands on my hips a bold tiger I am
the ruler the boss my heart
pumps gains and profits through my
body I gaze out full-length windows
over glum and ashen city veins
over the towers of today’s cathedrals
made of concrete and glass
and people swarming these bogs
like as many useless ants
insects I don’t like insects
I have a mind to drive my almighty fist
through the window panes
smash the face of this ugly place
make it shatter and splatter with blood
but the phone rings and someone tells me
to make more faster better run rabbit run!
hail shareholders! I am God!
I don’t like people
I grow trees and transform them
into parquet floors Swedish furniture paper
white paper a.ss-wipe paper—
wipe my a.ss you worthless buggers—
I don’t like God
and then oh God—meadows!
the place where you lazy pointless pricks
can sit and listen to time passing by
nobody tells you hours minutes seconds count
in only one breath I build
continents I destroy continents while you
you breed you keep the whole
machine going and persuade yourself
that’s life that’s all there is
the sun sets behind the skyline
in fire and blood but I’m wearing
my black-and-white goggles
who needs the colours of this
I don’t like red
I don’t like blue
I don’t like green

[desiresjab]

I forget how many acres per day of virgin timber and old second growth we harvest for our toilet paper needs. Does 160 acres sound like too little for that many rectums?

Some great imagery, lad. Stateside, our paper money is green also. This angry character is under a lot of pressure, psyching himself up for the day, I guess, to become a God again, a builder of continents. Once he has his goggles on, he is ready to give the orders to cut that forest, frack that shale or pour that concrete. That's not you, is it? Don't answer.

[DieterM]

Thanks for reading, glad you liked some bits. And I won't answer. But here's a hint: I don't drive a Porsche, I don't own a nice 'n' comfy house, and when things get really exciting work-wise, that merely means I'm asked to reduce a logo or move a headline from the upper left to the bottom right corner – and THAT doesn't really build or destroy continents, does it? ;-)

[desiresjab]

I think it is an interesting take on the psychology of continent builders. Not a low energy guy, was he? Even he needs his rationalizations (his goggles), his blinders to block out certain wavelengths (truths), so he can do the job he does everyday without the distraction of what he already knows perfectly well is happening. He runs something of a hard sale con job on himself. He probably does this every day. That is how I saw this one as my interpretation developed.

[YesNo]

I liked the sound of these two lines the best:

"or worst of all the snick’ring glare
of lime of pear of parakeet"

[DieterM]

Glad you liked them, Y/N :-)

[heartwing]

The voice is strong and driving, much attuned with the characterization. Sorry. I sound more like a short story writer/reader. My favorite poems do have elements of story, characterization, voice. The poem starts with a shock and builds and carries this whole shocking mentality straight through to the end. It doesn't miss a beat. Very nice.

[DieterM]

Thanks, heartwing – glad you liked it :-)