The Misery Contractors (Poetry)

Here come the misery contractors
whose presence spreads disease
they trample Nature underfoot
they mutilate the trees

They fill the air with toxins
and generate foul noise
their weapons pumping poison
that insidiously destroys

Their modus operandi
consists of hack and slash
a mindless occupation
done entirely for the cash

They're as gentle as Attila
and as caring with an axe
as a medieval Viking
prone to butchering attacks

Such destruction is exhausting
so they have to take a break
for eighty minutes labour is
the most that they can take

Hence their time sheet's close to fiction
should they claim a morning's work
for there's no one checks their hours
they just sit around and shirk

Do they think no one's observing?
Are the locals dumb and blind?
Too complacent in their contract
it might never cross their mind

And what's it matter in the long-run
when the whole world's gone to Hell?
The environment is dying
people sick-to-death as well ...

They're the misery contractors
and they bring it on in spades
the cacophony of battle
all those mercenary raids

There's no room for rhythmic mowing
all that's green is under threat
it's pollution they are sowing
and they haven't finished yet.