Spring comes
And I find myself fond of fall.
Summer dawns
And I admire more winter.
Fall arrives
And I cherish spring newly.
Winter blossoms
And I appreciate summer more clearly.

For years, the voices have risen—
from parched fields, from coastlines swallowed by the sea,
from homes turned to ruins by winds too fierce to be natural.

They ask not for mercy,
but for what is owed—
a recognition, a reckoning.

In glass towers and conference halls,
the wealthy nations turn away,
their signatures missing from promises long made,
their hands gripping wealth built on a burning planet.

Storms rage louder now,
waves crash higher,
droughts stretch longer,
but still, they hesitate.

The ones who suffer know the weight of inaction,
measured in lost harvests, displaced families,
children breathing in the dust of what once was home.

And yet, there is hope—
a whisper in the winds,
a trembling in the roots,
a gathering of voices that refuse to be silenced.

This is not charity.
It is justice.
It is the past catching up with the present,
demanding to be acknowledged.

There is no more time for debate.
No room for delay.
The debt must be paid.
Before the earth takes it in blood.

Within every burned forest
lies a newly sprouting seed,
irreparable on the surface
is a cycle that is forgiving-
albeit wild and relentless
it moves in ways that cannot
be comprehended

In the essence of
a bleak rain danced sky
is life striving to renew:
nature needs no hand
from humans to thrive,
the answer to all of our squirming
is to simply re-align

Is it the heat that is spreading
hidden among us
                            vortices
birthing in our bodies?
The climate: it never changes,
it is not man, but Sol:
the winds that power our earth;

We must deny everything we do;
The heat out there -
                              vortices in here -
Man did not cause it
Sol cannot cause it -
who never existed,
but for the true God

Not true; Not true;
But the cancers,
they grow;
But our cells, they
cannot hold a lie well;

Sun is overhead, temperature is high.
All are tired and removed the tie.
Prayed for rain, but no gain.
It emptied a river, it emptied a lane.
A sudden thunder hits a cloud,
Over bumped cloud, burst aloud.
Drops of water hits the land,
Satisfaction fills the mind.
A sudden splash stopped the rain.
It ends the Summer Rain!

Everything is normal
so not much to sing or say.
No summer thunderstorm,
the snow was magical only for an hour.

Old men
aren’t removing women’s ******* with removable dentures.
A belly laugh now and then,
an empty belly’s holy.

With simple joy
mortals may forget to fear their deaths.
Simply put,
we do not survive. But what an adventure!

I heard an archangel cry
Don’t hurt the trees!
Also, save democracy.
Also, stop barking, believing in that higher power.

What’s Ken doing today?
Watching TED talk lectures,
planning next Spring’s garden.
It’s Death, not the Jewish king, in your rose garden.

As climates change
species escape predators
and predators chase down prey.
Choose sacrifice or blame.

I look at faces
and they look at mine, mute, animated spirits,
black wet rocks,
victims among flames.

I embrace my anonymity,
lost in my own city,
in the shade of a gazebo,
a mosquito’s acceptance of its position among a million mosquitoes.

It's -35 degrees where I am,
Snowing blizzards that block up roads,
Grumbling adults surround me,
I marvel at their ignorance as they say,
"surely...not another snow day,"
It's so strange, surreal - surely they can see...?
I see a planet defiant in the face of the parasite called humanity.

The sky cracks open, bleeding light,
A burning testament to endless night.
Oceans rise to claim their prey,
While ash and bone mark yesterday.

The trees fall silent, their roots are undone,
By hands that choked out the breath of the sun.
Every step feeling like a retreat,
The ground shifting and eroding beneath our feet.

How long have we lived in this lie?
Telling ourselves somehow we DESERVE the sky?
Every truth ignored, every warning dismissed,
Etched in stone on a long, ever growing list.

The rivers scream, but their voices fade,
Drowned by machines and progress made.
Noxious air we take in our heavy heads,
A punishment from the world we’ve struck dead.

We carry this weight, not out of pride,
But because there is simply nowhere left to hide.
The sky does not forgive, it can only endure,
Sole witness to our insatiable yearn to err.

Like a sailor’s warning, a red sky in morning,
Ocean swell rolls like thunder from blue to black

The ebb and flow of the crashing tides plead,
“Turn the heat down. We have been trying to put out the flames for so long”.

How long did the fire have to burn
That not even the cries of Mother Earth could tame it?

Only the void of the moon
And the pain from the sun
Misaligned halo in harmony
Could save us from this tribulation