earth(n.)
/əːθ/
A caring mother we love to exploit.


-parthenope

Just as the
dawning sun
kisses the sleeping Earth,
your smile brings
warmth and light
to my
soul.

Four men from the break of dawn
With axe, hacksaw and *****,
Back and forth swaying their head,
And with their mighty brawn
Were hacking down a giant factory
That took small space on earth
Nurtured by air, water, soil from its birth,
Finally it was razed with great victory.
It was a factory which produced oxygen
That could not be gauged by men.
It provided food and shelter
To many creatures without ever to falter.
Without asking for anyone's labour
To them it did unconditional favour.

After a few days came there many men
To build another giant factory again.
They with great vigour cleared the sod
Built a factory with bricks and iron rod.
It was a factory that took over large area,
Workers feared diseases in their trachea
For it ceaselessly vomited black smoke;
By its noise neighbours to their horror awoke.

I kind of believe nature. Nature had decided to hit the reset button 5 times. Now the sixth i don't think nature had anything to do with corona

Its just us,Humanity as a whole paying for all the sins that we committed or its just another game by the underworld to  profit the hidden communors and crème de la crème.

Either way humanity doesn't deserve to be alive, for all the resources that we have and all that we salvaged in the few thousand years, we just rotted to become worse than what we were.

The Sound Of A Teardrop Distilled Into Alien Ears

the faultless sun
sure shot us
an indecipherable gaze
that day

we drifted to the
atmosphere’s edge
naked

like an orchid blooming
against the defunct metal
of an orbiting satellite

we were left stranded
on the rooftop of the world

where regret pools
in wailing shadows

yet
together we formed Pterodactyl wings
and flew away on thin sheets of skin,
the prehistoric wind brimming
with the fitful sleep of ancient matter

2. Her Superior Genetic Architecture

she
a black-skirted spaceship
hiding in the glare of the sun

stepping lightly down
from the clouds

the brightness of her face
swaying under the slow-churning skies

beneath her
doors creak open
in anticipation

the brightness of her face
swaying under the slow-churning skies

the world greedily swallows
her rings of ambrosia
in savory lumps

leaving nothing
for the scurrying insects below

I recall my hands upon the earth:
Delicate, squeaky blades of grass,
soft, dry dirt beneath.
I dug in,
dark crests of that which supports life
beneath my fingernails,
earth contained
within clenched fists.

Underneath the surface,
the earth is the microwave.
We are the engine, we are the heat wave.