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I look out on another fine day
aspen roughhousing with the breeze, flashes
her good morning
sun goddess smiles
Soon I will pull on my boots and gather up
the reddest and ripest, greenest
and tenderest
I will fill bowls with water
bring oats and pine bedding
give thanks for fresh eggs
Like a thousand other mornings,
and like the first

Here in the stillness, where snails slow dance
to orchestras playing a green symphony, I seek counsel
from those who have always been
who have always known—
How then, knowing this?

The wind whispers its wisdom

You have forgotten we are the same,
you are the seed, and carry all you need
inside of you

Seek the bright elemental light
in all things

Sing because you must

Give more than you take

Grow down and rooted,
reach up and outward
in equal measure

Remember you are made up of earth
and sun and ancestors—
not alone, not above
but part of

Not alone, not above
but part of

Befriend loss, for she is always
at your side

Soft-feathered necks arch
bold eyes fixed, the girls murmur
their assent
They remember the great
Read IPCC report here:
Jules 3d
Exclusively with one's self
Is how life's led to calamity
It's uncommon to shout in a crisis
Who's left to clean up the messes?
The feeling of alone
Is so cold
The feeling of alone
Changed my soul
The feeling of alone
Can I go home?
I feel I have a hole
where something was meant to be
but it never was there
so it's just empty
now and then it makes me cry
but it's alright, alright
always alright, never a let down
a weakness it is
and God forbids
I'll let anyone see that
for this ****** life made me a rock
so here I'll stay, forever
my tears slowly turning me to sand
uselace Sep 24
i have
the right to a future,
i never thought
would be disputed
but trees are burning
ice is melting
species are being wiped out,
so who's to say
that humans
won't be next?
adults ****** it up and y'all refuse to see that so we're cleaning up your messes
labyrinth Sep 23
As largest corporations get richer
They recruit preacher after preacher

Who articulate long heroic stories
That hypnotize nations with glories

God, King, Country and bunch of other stuff
So, seeing the naked truth becomes very tough

While the hoo-ha keeps you entertained
An army of bad people very well trained

Are insidiously getting busy with
Economy but not like Adam Smith

A sudden crash in housing sector or stock exchange
And wealth changes hands real quick. So strange!

Thank God! You have lots of TV channels to follow
Or high-tech, comfy, memory foam that we call pillow

Time for watching more TV or taking a good nap
Over further deepened income distribution gap

Although witnessed by you almost on a daily basis
You’re far from knowing the meaning of financial crisis

System’s designed in a way, you will feel strong
Yet still be the weakest link, accept and play along

In this equation, you are a worthy variable
As long as you shut your mouth and act biddable

You’re the victim here dude, that the big guy abuses
Labyrinth warned you alright. Please! No more excuses

You’d better start reading this from the very beginning
To comprehend the repeating nature of the **** thing
Pending copyright process
you want a poem about identity?

people who identify themselves by

what they eat, what they believe in,

what political party they like, what

depressants or stimulants they partake

or don’t partake in are the people who

emanate this keen sense of a “holier

than thou” off-putting. so if you see

a drunken straight-edge, a vegan carnivore,

a Christian atheist, a democratic republican

trotting through the mud of your streets,

be sure to dismount them off that high horse

and continue on as you were meant to do so.
Jodie Davies Sep 10
I feel guilty when I go to church.
Not because of Saturday’s misadventures
or the bottles that scatter my bedroom floor.
I am not burdened by the cake I had for breakfast
or the bed in which I woke up that morning.
So why do I feel this guilty?

I’m a prisoner of my own device
though the four corners of the earth sit in the palm of my hand.
When the world starts to scream too loudly
I can turn the volume down.
I can put the world to sleep.

These days I lounge ever more than I work. I fret
the number of likes on my profile picture
as if I didn’t just roll my eyes when my Mum told me I was beautiful.
I scavenge for validation as if this screen will be my best friend forever
though for now I mope alone and eat fried chicken in bed.

When the pastor tells me I’ve been saved,
hurricanes conjure their fists.
The ashes of the Amazon grimace.
The oceans and their few remaining fish wish that they could drown themselves
while the clouds above the Sahara cry the few tears they have left to cry.

I feel guilty when I go to church
because the only world I’ve paid attention to doesn’t exist.
Species raise their arms to surrender after years of brawling with extinction.
Yet, I only lift my thumb to scroll.

Beyond my screen I see
grey skies perch upon grey buildings
which tip-toe on grey concrete.
I’m lost in a grey sea.
Its currents rip and scrounge at my feet with hands that are wrinkled and veiny
and grey.

I dreamt about a crystal blue pool.
I felt stupid when I saw the ocean.
Criticising modernity.
The storm doesn't
weather me
I weather the storm
Lindy Aug 12
The reason for lockdown is muddy
Bricks stacked in a hole make a room
Of sorts
The roof is the sky in blue 8bit
Infinity framed to taunt a finite life;
Two lives -
A heartbeat and a tree
He cannot imagine the view from above
With his neck craned angular all day
The only way out is up

He gives his water to the tree
Leaves only drops for his prickly tongue
And when it rains he blesses the imprismed sky and drinks his fill

Green flag leaves unfurl
Climbing to search the sun
But he is brown as the muddy floor
Which cracks as the sun rises up with
Mayday, he says, remembering the boat in the Aegian - the radio spitting static

Surrounded by black water
The desert stretches on
Each wave a fist descending
Always a feast of inpotables.

Progress of the tree is measured in squints, patting the trunk, whispering lines of poetry - whole passages forgotten

How will I escape this labyrinth of suffering
Kiss the bark with prayers.

Isolation breeds desperate dreams
Teeth knocking around his head, falling to the floor
He buries them in the roots
Have one piece more
Grow tall, let me climb
The wind answers his words in the leaves
Yesssss yessssss
This poem is a narrative about an immigrant scholar who leaves his home on a boat but is imprisoned in a hole when he reaches his destination. He shares his water rations with a tree in the corner of the cell hoping to climb its branches one day to escape.
Evie Jul 22
i almost had a midlife crisis and dyed my hair a soft baby pink

it woulda been pretty

pair it with a tattoo under my eye

a broken heart on one side

a sparkling star on the other

but then i thought to myself, it’s not exactly a midlife crisis if i’m only 16

more of a quarter life crisis

not nearly as dramatic

so i settled for painting my nails pink instead
it’s been a wild summer. lots of emotions.
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