Methan poem

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Seven Zen Under & Methan

 

In Seven Zen Under

there is a frosen path

that none of us will enter

who hasn´t done the math

 

The Geology is broken

but the friendships are intact

you may bring back a token

from the open cratertract

 

In Seven Zen Under

When seven monks appear

You know that they will guard

the little monkeys there

 

Apart from that there´s none

and no protection left

from the magnitude disaters

that will end a World of theft

 

The methan gas is flowing

it´s no human kind of flow

this is the time of sinkholes

as CH4 will grow

 

The seven monks are praying

their tiny clockbells ring

some hour out of eternity

that even blackbirds bring

 

The visitors are leaving

as strangers always do

behind them is the heaving

of another methan brew