over the creek and through the woods,
a mower roars to life

shattering sweet morning silence with
sounds of this manmade hell.

little homeowner
lazy little **** or *****,

is your little patch
of manicured green
so important a sign
to ruin this sweet morn?

keeping up with the neighbors
buying into this artificial life.

never are you seen out
sitting about
in your little-manicured world
of green.

pesticides and trimmers
blowers and mowers
how i turn my eye with disgusted scorn

at the destruction
your convoluted idea
of beauty
has brought.

earplugs firmly inserted
windows and doors tightly shut

still i can’t help
but to cry out,
"why can’t you just
shut the **** up?!"