BP a sad poem

 

BP a sad poem

BP, Two little letters, what can they stand for; I asked of the bird who lie dieing on shore?

Bigger Profits he gasped as he crept closer to death, Bigger Profits, that’s all and nothing less!

BP, what does it mean? I asked of the turtle as he washed ashore, Bigger Profits he murmured and nothing more!

That can’t be I exclaimed! it must be something else, like the Blowout Preventer they took off of the shelf.

Your wrong shouted the Gulf Walrus from out of thin air, they have never worked and BP does not care!

No! I cried that can not be true, as the Walrus lie foundering all covered in goo!

Their must be another meaning, just out of reach, I pondered the question as the oil fouled the beach.

I coughed and I gagged as the spill worsened and BP continued spreading its deadly dispersants.

We all use the oil that much I do know, without Bigger Profits the economy would slow.

That can’t be the answer, it sounds much too harsh I thought to myself as the oil killed the marsh!

Without off shore drilling where would we be? But continued drilling will turn brown, our blue sea!

The oil spill is causing hardship and strife! It’s polluting the gulf waters and destroying our way of life!

Can it all be for Profit, is it as simple as that and will the disaster get swept under the matt?

No! The animals cried you must not forget, keep our memory alive, it’s not over yet!

I shouted BP, what do you stand for? Bigger Profits they clambered, that’s all nothing more?