A silly poem about the end of civilization

Since we’re just posting whatever buzzes through our heads now, here’s my latest from a journey toward a dark mountain
I am not well civilized, really alien here: trust me not.
I can understand the guns and the airplanes,
The other conveniences leave me cold.
'We must adjust our economics to the new abundance .
Of what? Toys: motors, music-boxes,
Paper, fine clothes, leisure, diversion.
I honestly believe (but really an alien here: trust me not)
Blind war, compared to this kind of life,
Has nobility, famine has dignity.
Be happy, adjust your economics to the new abundance;
One is neither saint nor devil, to wish
The intolerable nobler alternative.
Robinson Jeffers

Sine I read it, it did buzz into the canyons of my mind but I quickly released it, so once again I feel free.