A Voice In The Wilderness Poem by Mary Champion

1975

Proud, pretentious primate, Man,
you think you hold the winning hand.
You think this world is your estate,
to use, abuse and decimate.
You think you are the only race
who has a right to life and space.
You think you were ordained to be
the Lord of everything you see.

Other life-forms you despise,
they seem as nothing in your eyes.
If you can't use them they must go,
more room to let your numbers grow.
You strip the world of all you need
to try and satisfy your greed;
but when the world's an empty shell,
you will have made yourself a hell,
where man kills man and kills again
for those few crumbs that still remain.
Starving, breathing putrid air,
barren desert everywhere;
those last wretches lingering on
may see, too late, where Man went wrong.

A few wise misfits try in vain
to make you stop and think again.
But you won't heed the warning signs.
You close your eyes and ears and minds.
You think the rules do not apply
to one who has evolved so high.

Homo Sapiens - Thinking Man!
The sickest joke since time began.
Other species in their day
have walked the earth and passed away,
but Man's death struggles are so strong
they'll take the whole damn world along.