Well ...
that's it then,
we're officially done,
game about over ...

life as we know it now forever
changed by some ignorant
two-bit hustler in the White
House who signed off today
on a 'freeing from regulation'
something Capitalists have a deep
yearning for, look it up, & thus leading
to 4 years of pollution, toxic gases, rising
seas, dying wildlife, flooded villages & soon
worldwide shortages & drought & death ...

but America will be o.k. with it's hamburgers,
beans, & Doritos ... so I guess its just tough for
the rest of you's cos we'll be just dandy in this
here Land of the Free.

******* you Republicans till Hell freezes over
& the humble bear hunts for the last time.
... coming sooner than later after this morning.

I'd like them all
each & every one
down to the last
smug,
self-satisfied,
smart,
oh-so-smart
deniers,

lined up,
arm in arm,
just standing there
waiting ...
at the sea-shore,

& planting
tiny sticks
with flags
representing the
yet to be born
whose families
will find
their villages,
their homes,
their whole history
& livelihood
gone ...
under water,
gone.

I'd make them all
spend day
after day
constructing walls
with grains of sand
to stem the tide,

& I'd like a few
of the most
powerful ones
to simply, really,
just
stay there,
as the tide rolled in
& the waves washed the shore.

Deniers ...
may somehow
you just
be there
RIGHT
when
it happens.

William ...
we need you now,
come on back,

soft-shoe-shuffle on back,
mordantly wander
on back,
undertaker-drag
on back,

comment on the conventions,
acidly notice things,
flagrantly ...
destroy things,

whilst muttering mutations,
just plain cut-the-rug
right out
from under,

the creationists,
the snake-handlers,
the dumb-**** religionists,
the paranoid drug czars,
the oh so ignorant
blonde talking heads,
that *******
Zimmerman,

The war is still being fought,
and Uncle Bill ...
We need you!

It is called 'The Painting'
& begins with a line
containing the word
black,

which made me think of charcoal,
which then led to the drawings
composed by students
when I modeled
in art school,

& then the poem goes on
to speak of
'a delicate lock of blond hair'

& I picture the fair-haired girl
who I never spoke to
but whose shy & inviting smile
haunts me now,

& I wonder how it might have been,
our friendship.

An aqua-marine dragonfly
hovers in the clarified
light of dusk,
I walk slowly
the risen earth pathway
through the vibrant
green fields
on the outskirts
of the village.

A bell tolls once,
arresting in silence
the moment of foot-fall,
making real
the careful route
along the trodden path
to my house.

As evening comes
we drink tea
& all watch
as a blind man
approaches slowly
along the beach,

feeling his way
amongst us
to ask
for the same
as the tape-deck
plays the song
"Helpless ... helpless ... helpless."

If Earth First are still with us anymore
& they have some sort of ultra-militant
underground band of dedicated & utterly
uncompromising soldiers ready to defend
their mother earth at the drop of a hat &
of course after some careful preparation
could they please just get on with it before
its too late & carry this man off to a dingy
basement where he can watch re-runs
of This Living Planet while in-between-times
peasant farmers & fishermen directly affected
by rising sea levels as we speak come before
him to tell their tales & weep.