One regret for all those farm pigs wiggling their toes one last time on that ride to the market wiggling, wiggling like there's no tomorrow taking in the waning hours thoughts of their sow and babies left behind gasping the last breath of air and life the ride, the death march the winding turns the roar of a diesel engine the small cracks in the crate light filtering in bringing tears to their eyes the saddest eyes ever and the final curtain for somehow they know the fattening destiny's child this piggy went to market was a storybook fable facing all around them the others know, too their hearts beating down when the truck stops sorry not for coffee this time … collectively squeals abound the crates perspiring, thrashing the bounty of life on the dinner table the cruelty of such for no cargo is overturned as the hum of death nears sound of the blades soon rises above the prayers darkness kicks in taking in the ecosystem sadly regretfully as wiggling toes stop
This poem tugs at my heart, for the reality of such, is not made up. The first cavemen had the right idea.
my eyes are flashlights my face a mess of beauty standards and hidden rage
i am a building many people at the same good evil none all for different fame
i breathe co2 i drink gasoline in a cup my skin is rough concrete wires all the way up
i speak in machines scream drills and hammers i am all noise, chaos what comfort is there in silence?
i dress in fake nature plastic bags hold my pride i take the control but never once do i command
i am the cancer on earth's lung i am the darkness tainting all black
i am what they call progess but i am what prevents us from it i am a mess of glass and conctrete all in one
i may seem pretty and kind creating opportunities all around i build your home just to tear the real one apart
and deep in the night between the flashes and chaos one may be able to see a kind of nature that it is still out of my graspe but as selfish as i am i blind you with my light preventing you to fall from a far-away love
do not look away no, do not look at what truly is beautiful
because if you do if you see how the water flows or how the sun shines or even feel the grass
you might forget me— you should resent me you must break me— just so you can go back
My minds a pond, it's been murky a while, filled with waste, bad thoughts, and plenty of bile. The ecosystem dead, food for thought no more, my ponds been drained, spilled all over the floor. Every now and again, someone comes along, to clean out the waste, to fill up my pond, that time comes to an end, again and again, goodbye my love, my pond loving friend.
I kissed the Ocean and she said she was the Sea During the season of allergies I sneeze with no intention of apologizing I don't put things behind me the construction workers outside don't care if I'm sleeping they keep cutting down trees and I keep weeping because I. Can't. Sleep. Big Oil like that doesn't like me says the green in my blood is a lie I say I keep my ties and preserve unlike you monkeys getting what you don't deserve
I know I'm not winning but I know I have the cause and effect of sea breeze You don't notice me but I'm there I am so there And when I pick up and show you my hurricane you're scared but I promise you I'm just letting you know I'm there Asking you to tell me you care
I woke up very poetic this morning. This is kinda how it works for me.
From the alluring meadows of plants, and the enchanting wonders that encompass it. Each organism unique, none as much as even bleak. As we grow and split, cell by cell. Animals grow with development, Autotrophs harness sunlight, and breathe in food. An unknown stimuli, compromising all we'll know. Leaving animals free of their golden glow. Their response will soon show, animals in exile from their once snug homes.
Time passed as time would, Years turned into centuries. Human lifetimes faded into darkness. Long past is the times of understanding the value of nature. Ecosystems now sit smoldering, dead and attempting to recover. Smoke rises from the shed and destroyed cities. Humans destroyed by nuclear power. Somewhere along the way we lost what made us human.
There is an ecosystem of conflict thriving in my brain. A world with questions for residents and doubts for landscapes. I’m not sure if I’m actually reaching for answers right now, although something in my soul aches. Those landscapes are parched and turning to deserts under the sun the residents have named: Uncertainty.