East of Eden




The killing machine kills more animals a day

for consumption

than ipso facto, we in a year’s killing fields.


God made in our image, the anonymous

crowd, knotted

through with confections washed up on


Our coast of humanity, which windows

onto a Zoo

life thrives on deception. A moral mind


An  infallible judgement, where everyone

is dead

every tomb unearthed, then resealed


Animal, human remains heaped in fields

as tipped

dumps, where even  the horizon’s clouds


Are vapid incineration, a house of cards

crumbling, falling

into one another, into the pit that blots us out.



From World at Large Part 2

Copyright © 2015. Robin Ouzman Hislop

Todos los derechos reservados. All rights reserved

Robin is editor of on line poetry journal Poetry Life and Times at www.artvilla.com/plt. He edits both Facebook Pages PoetryLifeTimes and Artvilla.com as extensions of the Artvilla site, which he also edits.

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