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Aug 2020
Cold empty chrysalis
And pig slop -

Suckle the hearthfire **** of mother earth
we praise ourselves on being diverse
but we are the biodiversity,
spread so thin we can't nourish the hungry and thirsty.

The pale moon shines on a world somehow even colder,
we consume the birthday cake leaving only the smoulders,

Built monuments and towers to a false kind of power,
mycellium clouds bloom come to consume what is ours,
The midnight clock ticking to doomsday, now minutes from hours.

We believe that we control the elements, but loom they,
The ancient forces come soon to smother and cover in dirt
this mausoleum soon to be crematorium Earth.

And when the smoke clears and lifted is the haze
I dream of a peace on Earth without the human race.
Phil B
Written by
Phil B  M/Perth
     Wyatt and Shubhankar Mathur
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