Gone are the days, when by night, we would sleep on the trees
And by day, roam around, finding for eatables and wild berries,
We would then, swing from creepers to creepers, trees to trees,
Playing amongst, brothers and sisters, friends, and other families.

Our homes have been invaded, humans encroaching, day by day.
We have been driven out of our homes; we have no place to stay.
We now, no more, hunt for food, rather by the roadside, sit or lie
Ever patiently, waiting for foods, thrown from vehicles passing by.

They call us monkeys, but look who’s been monkey-ing?
No thoughts on where we’d live, simply occupying.
Cutting down trees, destroying our habitat,
We have no home, we can call our own; ain’t it bad?

Copyright © PS

The Earth, it slowly, slowly turns
As the streetlights turn on
In 8 more hours of slowly spinning
Up will rise the sun
Like ants scurrying under the earth
We do not understand
With the vanity of Narcissus
We think we rule the lands
We live upon, we do not own
The places we call home
When everything we know is gone
Something else will roam
Upon the roads that we have trod
And arrogantly called our own
It may be man,it may be not
Or something​ we have never known

When the wisest man in the world said
"It would be a tragic shame if ever
The Great Forest were to be reduced
To a small clump of trees."
Everyone, without exception, answered
"It certainly would."

So when The Great Forest
Was eventually reduced
To a small clump of trees,
That is what they decided to call it ...
It Certainly Wood.

A rover you were, all your working life,
But your conscience caught up with you,
You chose honourable re-tyre-ment and
You're now green through and through.

Once you greedily thirsted for petrol,
But finally kicked the habit,
And you now partake of fresh country air,
Just as rural as any wild rabbit.

In the past your throaty engine's roar
Out-decibeled the traffic's bustle,
But you now much prefer to listen to
The dry, restless leaves which rustle.

Alas your coachwork no longer gleams,
But you still retain all of your pride,
It's just your wish to be at one with nature,
As everything else you've tried.

A frosty morning is no deterrent,
To a well-seasoned convert like you,
It's just an unavoidable prelude,
To the sparkling spring-time dew.

Your days of road rage long since gone,
When you used to speed and scramble,
You're now content to pull to one side,
And be overtaken ... by a bramble.

This tuesday April 25th in the year of the lord 2017
being in a good, good mood & wishing to send love
& solidarity to all innocent living beings upon this
fragile lonesome earth I hereby declare my complete
& undying love for the lowly but almost beyond magnificent
Praying Mantis,

that sweet  & oh so delicate creature,
that green being which rests so tranquil upon twig & branch
legs as hands, as in prayer, as pleading, attentive & so, so
quiet,

All Power to the small green creatures & all recognition of
their undeniable right to walk this earth in peace & joy as
any of us oh so arrogant two-legged blundering creatures
supposedly made in god's image,

I have seen god in the form of the Mantis, & sure enough
its beauty & light is beyond magnificent.

Beam that love now.

Would you rather the majestic pure white polar bear had a home in this world or that Paul Ryan took a slow, slow boat
to China & then turned around & came back, & then again,
& again?

... the humble Praying Mantis was able to bask in the sunshine
on a leaf of its choosing or that Trump was locked away for
70 years in a dank & dismal people's cell?

... all the bees, & all the dainty flying creatures could buzz here & there as was their want or that Mitch 'Gruesome' McConnell was marooned forever on a distant deserted isle?

... the startling life-form that is coral could take its own sweet time covering rocks & outcrops & undersea crags or that Mike Pence quite suddenly & terminally lost his ability to function in any way whatsoever?

... the soon-to-be starved nomadic people, the soon-to-be flooded
coastal peoples & the soon-to-be parched farmers of India were to be given direct financial & physical assistance by expropriated & toiling Masters of Industry & sundry media lackeys?

... that the delicate flowers, the tall & mighty trees, the vital green, green grass could just a go on going on, & anyone, anyone at all who ticked that box declaring Climate Change a hoax be pitilessly overseen constructing vital networks of deep, deep canals, oh for the remainder of their natural life?

... Would you rather one less Republican politician or one less soaring & majestic wind-tumbling vulture?

... Would you rather ...