Offshore Oil Exploration

Months of preparatory work,
Permits obtained.
Maps explored, sited,
Ground and beneath scanned,
Each contour drawn, plotted, named.

Equipment assemblage.
Platform designed and towed,
Pre-commencement government inspection
Constant.

We test. Slowly, the loose, easy dirt,
Gives in.  No rejoicing yet, premature.
The diverter in place, functions well.

The deeper the bit, the harder the resistance.

The camera's eyes monitor until
We reach depths too deep for their functioning.

The derrickhands order about the junior roustabouts,
Check the mud pumps, check the pH levels,
Do this, do that. The pecking order on board clear.

The kings of the rig, the drillers, in charge.

Then, disaster.

Oil spill.

Worse.



Not only smiling,
She has
Opened her eyes and
Ceased purring.

P.S. This would as is my custom be,
Re-entitled properly:
First Poem of the Day:** Offshore Oil Exploration

It seems like just yesterday when we'd give our affection away without a second thought. If they said they wanted it, we believed them. We thought, "if they're willing to ask for someone's heart--something so precious and complex that it needs constant tending--why would they do anything but cherish it?"

As it is, we do anything but nurture one another. If our hearts are gardens--each own's blossoming with combinations of colors and fragrances too beautiful to be anything but unique--then our minds are corporate oil drillers, buying up land with no greater intent than to turn profit. We invest in a lush plot only to **** the land--**** it dry of a natural nectar we cannot ourselves produce--and move on to a new plot of untouched, fertile soil: another new, untapped resource for our consumption.

What became of the gardens you destroyed? Are they as barren as the day you left them? Are they overgrown with weeds in pathetic attempt at recreating that former glory? Or have you never revisited the land that you once claimed, purchased, and called your own?

You know, you were beautiful once too; I can see it under the scars. I wonder who destroyed your garden, who drilled through your crust--relentlessly, mercilessly--until your soul gave and bubbled up to their hands for the taking. That's what brought you to drilling, after all. You're not consuming, you're replacing. You're trying to regrow.

But flowers don't spring from oil. You need a gardener to tend to your tarnished land. Yes, even as your surface gets greener, your well will be dry; give it time. Oil is born from seasons--generations--of an evolving land. With your gardener by your side, you'll get there. Trust them. Cherish them. And, above all, be their gardener in return.

Such back pressure
I have
at 3000 feet
down,
a real pressure cooker
I am
shooting my rig,
spreading wealth
to the drillers
of rich Texas tea.

The outlaws
yellow gold and
painted ******
digs and rigs and
mountain men.

We went mining
refining
dining on dirt
gambling the shirt on
our backs

glasses and cork
good news
loose talk
killers and drillers.

The stores that sold or
so it was told
everything
under the Sun.

When we last visited Santa,
A sign on which was written "For Sale"
Hung from a post on his property.
It's hanging there still from a rusty nail.

Santa shuffled out to greet us.
Conditions have been taking a toll
On Santa, for it is obvious that
Things aren't going so well at the Pole.

"Welcome back," said Santa, wiping
A little tear from the edge of his eye.
"I wish I could say that things were improving.
Alas, they're not," he said with a sigh.

"The Arctic is warming at such a fast rate!
Believe you me, it's very alarming.
Don't people care about
The habitats that humans are harming?

"Upsetting the balance of nature is having
Disastrous consequences, for now
We are at a tipping point.
How much more will we allow?

"Melting sea ice is making it hard
For animals who need it to thrive.
Polar bears and walruses
Are finding it hard to stay alive.

"A lot of snow and ice up here
Is badly needed to reflect
The sun's energy back into space.
Now we have the albedo effect:

"Water and rock both absorb
Heat from the rays of the sun, which will
Cause even more ice to melt,
Making the earth warmer still!

"Many animals face starvation,
Animals such as reindeer that graze.
As we observe the Greenland ice
Sheet melt, expect bleaker days.

"With the thawing of more terrestrial
Permafrost, methane's released
Into our earth's atmosphere.
Our problems once again are increased.

"I hate to be a buzz ****," he added.
"But my cheerful '**, **, **!'
Is turning into a dire warning--
Now it's more of a 'Whoa, whoa, whoa!'

"No one wants this property,
Other than polluters and drillers.
But I refuse to sell to climate
Change deniers or habitat killers."

Mrs. Santa called from the house.
"The missus needs me," he said. "So long.
Tell everyone that Santa needs
A climate change Christmas song."

With that, he turned and left us standing,
Baffled, bewildered, sad, distraught.
Some folks might be fooled by deniers,
But one thing's for certain: Santa's not.

-by Bob B (12-10-19)