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TOD HOWARD HAWKS Dec 2019
All people live downstream.

Copyright 2019 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet and human-rights advocate his entire adult life. He just finished his first novel, A CHILD FOR AMARANTH..
Fall train rolling through the landscape
While people dig the ground for gold
And weapons to poorest countries are sold
Ice water becoming scarce on Earth
We shroud pollution from our eyes to escape
The truth that nature is running out
We diligently put flowers and green in our hearths
To surround ourselves with virtual images of life
Hiding the truth that humans are running out

Yet money is made out of tree paper
And CPUS run thanks to extracted crystals
And sure Google has a plan if all else fails
Gas is waging wars but soon it'll be for water
If we go extinct nature will always prevail
There will always be higher oceans to sail
Grass with grow and outreach skyscrapers
Will your children ever see polar bears?

A pine tree of 42 years of age was cut down
What if your mother was exhibited 'fore town hall
To be decorated with garlands, lights and all?
Then ditched, naked without her verdoyant foliage
Once healthy, now dusty at 42 years of age?

If our universe was reduced to 14 seconds human time
We'd only represent 1 second, yet the hourglass
Is about empty, we don't have hearts of glass
Eternal we aren't, unlike a diamond or a lime
We are expected to not just make an impact
But save, recycle, protect, nurture and act!

Not anything too complicated
What a parent would do for their child
Humanity, now has come the time to be lucid
Otherwise, at the end, all that's left will be decrepitated!

November 9, 2019
Train to Lyon
Ilana Lind Aug 2019
At 28 years I have become more self-interested
than I have been for two decades.
I am exploring all the granite holds my mind can grip,
all the ways my heart can cleave,
what fits into my body, the feeling of entry and exit,
how invasion stings and where I build my walls,
what quiets my horses and what scatters them galloping.
I used to look outside all the time like a periscope,
but now my navel fascinates me.
For so long it didn’t really matter who I was.
I simply was. I did. I perceived. I acted. I reacted.
The world needed my discovery. I yearned to stomp
all over its trails recording my findings.
Now I am ecologist frantically cataloguing the behaviors,
daily rituals, feeding and mating practices
of the only one of my species. Now it feels paramount
to carve out the hollow where I shall nest,
to place a sign for others, and a pair of binoculars
and a guidebook: “The Wild Me.”
8/6/18
refresh mesh Jul 2019
the clouds are not
something you can bully into a corner.
even though they appear
to flee from nothing
without cause or meaning,
they are huge coins
bellowed beneath space
cradling something
for earth's ***** organs
squeezing something
so precious and volatile
that even the breath of machines seem
valuable.
as i become lost under the eye of light,
i realize i can no longer distinguish my need
to track your scent
from your desire to be pet.

before we can blink
the earth has already spun into silk.
we hurl along through time and space,
stuck on the end of a stringed cat toy
as she swirls
magnificent clouds around her head
propelled in her rotation
and strung along endlessly
by the very bright beast
that has always been
slowly, slowly
swallowing her.
these thoughts are torrential as a hurricane
and as cruel as a tornado
poking into monstrous existence
treating earth like a sandbox.

Relax,
she calls through the roar.
You're in a classic trap.

That is only the quiet grasp of your mind,
the child of so much shouting,
recalling my story.
Your quiet mind, remembering
all at once
all the words which sounded
unwarranted or excessive.
Your quiet mind, leading you
to accept that it all was,
or could maybe have been,
necessary to say.
This is your acknowledgement of the jurassic times,
when diamonds and gold
still pierced my belly.
You must notice the dust settling
all around you for what seems to be the first
and final time:
just for today, when everything quakes
and rots
in a perfect rhythm.
johnny solstice Jun 2019
CAR OF THE WEEK
MAN OF THE MOMENT
GIRL OF THE MONTH
HORSE OF THE YEAR
SALE OF THE CENTURY

Better start an inventory
Check what’s missing
Hear the gas hissing
Don’t even  think…..
about dissin
this lyric I’m spittin
out LAVA
TORNADO
TYPHOON
So you’ll see very soon
How strong your Mother really is!
The Question is not an answer in itself
There’s more to food than the price on the shelf
There’s more to life than hoarding wealth
There’s more to this than meets the eye
BUT WHY?
Bother with a question
Just live
On AUTO-SUGGESTION
WHY NOT?
Count, Weigh and Measure
All the things that you find
And make yourself BLIND
To the fact that this IS
“my FLESH”
that you’re BURNIN and LOOTIN
those are my LUNGS
that you’re CHOKIN with you’re SMOKIN
this is my BLOOD
that’s FLOWIN
                   FULLA NOXIOUS
SUBSTANCES
Whilst the Stock Market CASH
                                        BOOM
                                        CRASH
                                        BOOM
                                         CASH
CASH on DEMAND
GOLD from my TEETH
Con-sumer demand
OIL from  my belly below
FUTURES DEMAND
FINAL DEMAND
Sale of the Century
Everything must go
So you know
Who you are
When you wake up
Saying “wot’s up?”
You may have to cup
A hand to your ear
So you hear
Very clear
This lyrik I’m chatting
The voice I am passing
The word of
“the MOTHER OF ALL F**KERS….
GOOD EVENING SUCKERS…!”
Time to wake up
alarm bell ringing
Fluid in my lungs
make birds stop singing
whales stop swimming
iceberg melting
Spells change
Smells strange
When viewed up close
Where the dose
Is the strongest
But strangest
Of all
Is the fall
From grace

From the bottom of the list
         Of endangered species
             You’ve carved niches
                    Genocided species
                                 Built follies
                                 Burnt witches
                                 Dug ditches
                                 Built fences
Against yourselves
    Against your spouses
               Within your houses
                              of detention
                               Prevention
                            Is better than cure
        The water has to be pure
If we can be sure, what constitutes pure?
SO
Better do some catchup
Have a mental checkup
Don’t crackup
Or blowup
Or turnup LATE
For your own
Great Escape
Don’t leave it too late
Your Mother can’t wait
To have a big shake
And scratch off her fleas
And boil up the seas
A few thousand degrees
Then you’ll see
A sale of the century
Where everything goes
Up the nose
Of who do you suppose?
And whose eye will it sting
When fire I bring
From down below
My oceans
Ancient potions
Alchemical lotions
Make motions
Measured in Richter scales
Southern gales
Beached whales
Mothers wail
Another sale
Of a slave
To the rhythm of madness
To the rhythm divine
The divine intervention
The total dissection
Of my very womb
Crash
Boom crash
Boom
Closing down sale
While stocks last
Last few days
Everything must go
at the SALE OF THE CENTURY
johnny solstice Jun 2019
In my fairy garden
the bubbles fly so high
they blow into the atmosphere
and neutralise the sky

My fairy bubbles help my skin
they soften and they glow
they transmutate the sea-life
till extinction bids them "Go"

My lovely fairy bubbles
take my washday blues away
they saunter down my plughole
and drift into the bay

They poison and they modify
with each outgoing tide
They brighten up the logos
in the land of paranoid

Well my whites are so much whiter
since I bought my fairy friend
I give no **** for politics
I flush it round the bend

My clothes must be the cleanest
like the ones on my T.V.
A speck of dust a fleck of mud
is social leprosy

So lets all use our faries
and wash our blues away
let's forget about the ocean
and the price that we must pay

As the sea-life gets much rarer
from the toxic fairy sludge
ask yourself some questions
give your conscience a little nudge

This is the land of plenty
for all and not just one
Your cleaning and your preening
are blotting out the sun

"......for hands that do dishes
may one day grab your throat....
....buy Mind-Need-Fancy-Snake-****....."
johnny solstice Jun 2019
The garden’s overgrown now

The poppies gone to seed

The flowerbeds run over

And all is choked by weeds



No-ones done the pruning

And the pond is stagnant slime

The brambles are encroaching

Too late for weeding time



The fields have gone to fallow

The veg no longer food

The fruit has started rotting

And the bees have left for good



The birds no longer singing

The river has dried up

Nothing is worth eating

And nowt is safe to sup



There’s autumn leaves in springtime

Desolation all around

There is no milk and honey

Or beauty to be found



Outside the gates of Eden

Adam sits and weeps

An aching in his ribcage

An apple at his feet
johnny solstice Jun 2019
The garden's overgrown now
The poppies gone to seed
The flowerbeds run over
And all is choked by weeds

No-ones done the pruning
And the pond is stagnant slime
The brambles are encroaching
Too late for weeding time

The fields have gone to fallow
The veg no longer food
The fruit has started rotting
And the bees have left for good

The birds no longer singing
The river has dried up
Nothing is worth eating
And nowt is safe to sup

There's autumn leaves in springtime
Desolation all around
There is no milk and honey
Or beauty to be found

Outside the gates of Eden
Adam sits and weeps
An aching in his ribcage
An apple at his feet
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