Where’s My Prize?

Summary

The text is a poignant reflection on the consequences of greed and the lack of accountability for the wealthy, juxtaposed against the powerlessness of the individual in the face of environmental and societal crises.

Abstract

"Dark Times: Where’s My Prize?" is a thought-provoking piece that delves into the moral and environmental costs of unchecked greed. The author, Emily Gibson, questions the absence of reward for the common person's restraint from retaliating against the oligarchs whose insatiable desire for wealth perpetuates global suffering. The poem paints a vivid picture of the world's dire state, from climate change effects like rising seas and wildfires to geopolitical strife and the suffering of wildlife. It underscores the futility of expecting recognition for inaction against the powerful elite who continue to exploit the planet, ultimately acknowledging that neither resistance nor compliance will change the inevitable decay of the world as we know it.

Opinions

The author expresses frustration over the lack of consequences for the wealthy's greed, which drives environmental and societal degradation.
There is a sense of helplessness in the face of billionaires' unchecked power and influence.
The poem conveys a deep concern for the planet, highlighting the impact of human actions on climate change and wildlife.
The piece suggests that the current trajectory of greed and environmental destruction is leading to a catastrophic future.
There is a hint of irony in the title "Where’s My Prize?" as it implies that there should be some reward for not resorting to violence against the wealthy, despite the moral high ground of such restraint.
The author acknowledges the inevitability of change, whether through revolution or natural consequences, implying that the current system is unsustainable.

Greed is not good, never was good, the evidence abounds.

Where is my prize for not going after the oligarchs with pitchforks and guillotines? Those whose endless quest for more, more, more, form the roots of so much tragedy.

Surrounding us all, selfish deeds driven by selfish wants overwhelm Earth’s capacity to adjust: rising seas disappearing island nations, raging fires with 12 month seasons, starving polar bears swimming for ice, bleached gardens of corals no more, scorched lands blasted to smithereens shifting borders 2 feet forward or back at the whim of despot warlords.

There is no prize, for allowing billionaires access to power, unchecked. As if I could, with my puny life, influence those who want for nothing yet consume the world feeding their greed.

If there was a prize, I couldn’t take it with me, anyway, when everything we know turns to dust. As it all will, one way or another, whether we take out the capitalist lords or not.

Written for the prompt “Where’s My Prize…..” I appreciated being able to funnel some of my fury into these words. It helps, whether I pick up the pitchforks or not!

In my poem a day challenge for 2022, this was poem #61.