Throw that syrup up the wall
Nothing sweet! Not at all.

The fields are shred to open wounds,
chopped to cost-effective chunks.

Yet the rats are digging deeper,
find the last of starving reaper,
uproot remains of rotting chaff,
condemn the rump of weary staff.

Throw these prayers in the well
Drown them! With a chiming bell.

Rivers torn through breaking borders,
led to tanks of golden quarters.

And yet the sharks are hunting further,
sense the last of fish to murder,
dive for scraps and wasting bones,
leave but lumps of muck and stones.

Look upon an airless night,
Choking on! Consumer’s blight.