Mountain Holler
4:20 Poetry by Jimbo
September 5th, 2007
The first of hopefully many poems by Coal River resident Jimbo4:20
Four Twenty. It means many things
To many different folks
For some it's Hitler's Birthday
Or a day to smoke some dope
For me it holds a different meaning.
It's a certain time of day
I look Southwest and hold my Breath
As the mountains blown away
The ground beneath me trembles
As the sound like thunder rumbles past
The dust and ash rise skyward
Above the mighty blast
Machines descend into the rubble
Dozers, Loaders and Rock Drills
To labor through the dark of night
To shove rock into the hollers, what they call valley fills.
Each day the ridge line's smaller
Cause the machines they seldom stop
Except of course for shift change
Or their fuel tanks needing topped
One Day Peace will return here
When there's not more coal to dig
There will be just rubble
Where mountain once were big
Just scars where once was beauty
Streambeds of silt and sludge and more
What once was West Virginia
Will become a real eye sore
So just sit back and do nothing
Just like they tell you to!
And watch the mountains pass away
To make rich the chosen few
Although they do not live here
They know what's best for us
They tell us each and every day
In their judgment we must trust
So each day at 4:20
These thoughts pass through my head
I just hope it all ends soon
Before the Mountain's dead
I leave you now, with one more thought
Bring back the pick and shovel
If you can, put forth a plan
To stop Mountain Top Removal.