Men have searched, longing, lost, for generations
Since the first seed chased the sun
Aeons searching for those few simple words
Since the first tear from sky fell
Hearts hammered on the anvil of desire
Since the first dawn caressed a horizon
For no sweeter mystery can ever be
Since the first lip curved in joy
A simple phrase to bring her closer
Since the first note slunk from string
A sweet refrain to tempt her home
Since the first snake whispered of want
though home is ever a temporary embrace
Since the first rose was found wanting
I was just wondering why you’re here?

Nothing shines up a halo faster than death
but in living we chase the last living breath
forgiveness is for those who draw in the air
those whose lungs are caked with mistakes
know nothing, only the living care they are there
no longer, what is buried or burnt cannot ache
not even the heart knows when it is too late

I see your star
you left it
burning for me
so that the dark end
of the street glows
like a broken candle
in the window
there is
no paper lantern lighthouse
above these grease proof paper rocks
so we watch
as shabbily folded galaxies burn
echoing the path of virtual pencil tips
tracing the factory cumulus
corroding our senses
a production line of carbon
across no man's sky
no woman's neither
for we do not own
the open wound of a petroleum aurora
drawn across this
life
canvas
candle wax
atmospheric balance
sevety eight nitrogen
nineteen oxygen
nought point nine argon
tracing nought point one
dripping
neglect
It is a gross domestic heartbeat
pulsing
a rain of elementary particles
pouring
into the veins
of an unnatural landscape

What reply can these resources make?
The dead metal
veins through stone
crack like bones
under drill bits
stolen
from the groaning ground
subsumed by grinding derricks
the sounds
******
black-gold-blood
from her veins
the sounds
unchanged
a squinting look
telling stories
but in no language we know
OF COURSE
we do not recognise
the wail of an angry child
in tantrum tornados
a crying coriolis deflecting
intention
from the eye
watching calmly
as those concrete scabs
deny air to our lungs
uprooted
ecosystems make room
not for trees
for high rise imprisonment
sea levels rising
they come
to wash mother clean
and where are we?
All we ever might have been
a blackhole
sunhalo
cigaretteburnt
on a broken candle windowsill
empty
where no one waits
For this distant beacon
has turned its face
from us
towards a lonely moon
now red with shame
we are welcome home
we are
I know
for here on this empty sill
a fragment of your still
glowing embers
lies
in the ashtray I stole
from the pub
the night we met
such tangible self interest
makes meaningful
what I say
what I do
though I cannot stop
the angry wail
of a child born
in this anthropocentric chaos
of well seeming form
can I simplify the message more?

We are not special

we owe the earth
our vigilance
not our scorn

If not us then who
will take personal responsibility
for soothing
our mother

before
the sun turns
to blackness
before
we are consumed
in our own hunger
doomed
to the decline we choose
which will it be
the decline of life
OR
the decline of energy use

our species can end
or it can soar

Choose wisely

Choose now

Or

choose nothing
evermore

I would like us to think about the assignation of blame.
A voice weighs a ton a stare takes a shape forlorn is the game
that we play alone so in conversation please consider
the nature of stones. Left prone they sleep but thrown at glass figures
they damage our home replete with possibilities we know
only a few outcomes what we know not is which way to go
let us end this conversation which has now gone one furlong
past the point of return, for we will never know who was wrong

I read five different newspapers online this morning
I still don't know where the vox populi has gone
nor do I know what is going on out there
in the world of which I am something
what I have learned is that more questions come
When did celebrity procure the mantle of moral representation?
Why are actors and musicians harder to buy than (un)elected officials? When will school teachers be remunerated at the level they deserve?
Can all this be turned into palatable verse?
One that avoids the indignity of chewing out my own tongue
Thank you dear Internet for ruining my morning

We don’t believe that we ever told you
so few of us have access to the air
We have no tremulous chords to vibrate
weighed down as we are by not knowing how
never speaking to hear ourselves groan. Lately
the time we have in abundance is spent
listening to that which is above us
but not above us, for we are one and all

... ... ...

We don’t believe that we ever told you
but when we stop and think about it,
it seems so obvious to that you are not
and never were the sunlight, you see
we thought for a while
That you were the source
of all the warmth in the universe
but you were just being you,
you don’t know how not to
you rise and fall, change form and move on
bringing the love of all
that you travel through into all that you touch
for that alone we could be so grateful
that the weight of the worlds
you lifted from our shoulders
would not be enough to show
how grateful we are you took your ease upon our home
for the rest don’t ever let us stop
opening everyday so that you may gaze
on our upturned faces
as a thank you let us show how much it means to feel life burn.