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A shiitake dreamer in séance here trust her hands of clouds
for she is one ready as Columbia whole
only she inhibit feelings, fear or wrath
with her kind of inclination found now might supplely bind hers
or daily bread shall dissolve her breath,
a ****** in sun dried tomatoes
fore dually her thought of heart leaving
mellow her wish with pleasure once again
that her kingdom bound where a prayer now her staple
with much to share allow her providence, today.
Eliza Fairchild May 2016
The pitter patter of rain echos through the soil,
sending a message in morse code.

Biological clocks begin to turn as fungi wake from their slumber.
Hyphae radiate outward, mapping the skin of the earth,
a living neural network woven into the soil of the forest.
Peter Roads Mar 2016
I see your star
you left it
burning for me
so that the dark end
of the street glows
like a broken candle
in the window
there is
no paper lantern lighthouse
above these grease proof paper rocks
so we watch
as shabbily folded galaxies burn
echoing the path of virtual pencil tips
tracing the factory cumulus
corroding our senses
a production line of carbon
across no man's sky
no woman's neither
for we do not own
the open wound of a petroleum aurora
drawn across this
life
canvas
candle wax
atmospheric balance
sevety eight nitrogen
nineteen oxygen
nought point nine argon
tracing nought point one
dripping
neglect
It is a gross domestic heartbeat
pulsing
a rain of elementary particles
pouring
into the veins
of an unnatural landscape

What reply can these resources make?
The dead metal
veins through stone
crack like bones
under drill bits
stolen
from the groaning ground
subsumed by grinding derricks
the sounds
******
black-gold-blood
from her veins
the sounds
unchanged
a squinting look
telling stories
but in no language we know
OF COURSE
we do not recognise
the wail of an angry child
in tantrum tornados
a crying coriolis deflecting
intention
from the eye
watching calmly
as those concrete scabs
deny air to our lungs
uprooted
ecosystems make room
not for trees
for high rise imprisonment
sea levels rising
they come
to wash mother clean
and where are we?
All we ever might have been
a blackhole
sunhalo
cigaretteburnt
on a broken candle windowsill
empty
where no one waits
For this distant beacon
has turned its face
from us
towards a lonely moon
now red with shame
we are welcome home
we are
I know
for here on this empty sill
a fragment of your still
glowing embers
lies
in the ashtray I stole
from the pub
the night we met
such tangible self interest
makes meaningful
what I say
what I do
though I cannot stop
the angry wail
of a child born
in this anthropocentric chaos
of well seeming form
can I simplify the message more?

We are not special

we owe the earth
our vigilance
not our scorn

If not us then who
will take personal responsibility
for soothing
our mother

before
the sun turns
to blackness
before
we are consumed
in our own hunger
doomed
to the decline we choose
which will it be
the decline of life
OR
the decline of energy use

our species can end
or it can soar

Choose wisely

Choose now

Or

choose nothing
evermore
Julie Grenness Feb 2016
What are our millennium fables?
Women keep giving each other labels,
No harmony for our ecology,
An alliance should be our synergy,
No accountability for the economy,
No wise leaders to steer us to unity,
Century's getting older, folks!
Any teamwork to cast off these yokes?
Symbiosis should aim at harmony,
Let's pray for millennium synergy!
Feedback welcome.
Brent Kincaid Feb 2016
The solution to pollution
Is to cease affluent effluent.
In other words make the rich
Live in their ecological excrement.
Force them to drink only from
Their permanently poisoned pipes
And turn a deaf ear, as they did
To any of their constituent’s gripes.

The enemies of the anemones
Fought their way to the deep
To censure and make sure
The sea creatures had no sleep.
It seems the corporations
Don’t realize what they’re doing.
If we **** off the plankton, then
We’re headed for planetary ruin.

It was bad enough when someone,
Without telling us, sold our land
And then they chopped down trees
For a reason anyone can understand;
Greed. That was the proper word.
They wanted more money in the bank.
So when the land erodes and dies
We’ll have the corporations to thank.

They cover up their eco-crimes
By declaring illegal military forays
And pretend they are taking us back
To those good old, happier days.
But in between bombing villages
It can always plainly be seen
That we and our country are
Slowly being picked totally clean.

And when we object, cry out loud
That something is wrong with all this;
They start to call us unpatriotic,
Call us who starve are the neurotics.
So, don’t listen to their lying rhetoric,
Instead look at what they are doing.
The sonsabitches are Macbeth’s witches,
And they have a lot of poison brewing.
Mike Essig Jun 2015
1 - Everything is connected to everything else.
2 - Everything has to go somewhere.
3 - **There's no such thing as a free lunch.
Kudos to Stewert Brand circa 1968
some people live for what lasts
some people live for what's left
some people make sure to leave things that last
so the people whom they've left can live
some things last forever that shouldn't
some are the last of their kind
some people care more for material things
than for what's going on outside

they'll be fine in their homes with their money

just fine

until the green on the trees starts to go
remember how great it once grew
before our exponential growth
and everything we've grown to know
and we knew

this year's inflation
overpopulation
in nations and nations and nations of people who all need a phone and who all need a car and who all need more gas cause we drive really far all time and we need to go out in the summer to purchase a new AC
and we all have to separate our wants from our needs
...and we need to begin to go back to the world where we lived for what kept us alive without money or time..
...all the world
..in my mind
but i'm just one guy.
i remember we used to be happy
do we really just want to be fine?
..think of the different meanings of "fine"
...and of "all the world" as 'everyone in the world' or 'all the earth has provided for us'
Henry Tobelman 2015
Once twelve
Now one
All my poetry is about exploring the breaking of nature and humanity.
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