Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Zywa Jul 3
The woods are chopped down,

too bad, I'm going to save --


the tree in the square.
Column "Boeren zijn de baas" ("Farmers are boss", 2024, Marcel van Roosmalen), in the NRC of July 1st, 2024

Collection "Actively Passive"
Louis Segoe Mar 29
Song of the world ( Lied des Welts )

In the morning light, the sun ascends,
Painting skies with hues that never end.
Mountains rise, their peaks kiss the sky,
And oceans dance, their waves in reply.

Forests whisper secrets to the breeze,
As rivers carve their paths through ancient trees.
Deserts bloom with cacti and wildflowers,
Each petal a testament to Earth's powers.

Oh, Earth, our cradle and our home,
Your landscapes vast, where wonders roam.
From Arctic ice to tropical shores,
Your beauty leaves us forever in awe.

Fields of green stretch out like emerald seas,
Where creatures play and find their destinies.
Canyons yawn, their depths a silent song,
Echoing tales of ages long gone.

The moon waxes and wanes, a celestial dance,
Stars twinkle above, in cosmic romance.
Glaciers carve valleys, their icy art,
And rainbows bridge gaps, stitching heart to heart.

Oh, Earth, our cradle and our home,
Your landscapes vast, where wonders roam.
From Arctic ice to tropical shores,
Your beauty leaves us forever in awe.

Let's protect the forests, the coral reefs,
The fragile ecosystems that bring us peace.
For every creature, every blade of grass,
We'll be stewards of Earth, as long as we last.

Oh, Earth, our cradle and our home,
Your landscapes vast, where wonders roam.
From Arctic ice to tropical shores,
Your beauty leaves us forever in awe.

As day turns to night, and stars ignite,
We'll sing your praises, Earth, with all our might.
For you are our muse, our sacred birth,
Forever entwined in Earth's sweet melody.
This song is a poetic celebration of Earth's beauty. Let's cherish and protect our planet for generations to come.
Made in support of @copilot app
Anais Vionet Feb 17
I’m so excited about this election
about America and our direction

We’ll trust old men
to make big decisions
elderly men
of compassion and vision

Men who were there
when the work was done
when we went to the moon
and warred in Vietnam

A glorious age is at hand
we’ll be safe in those trembling hands

One who launched an insidious insurrection
Another who can’t follow simple directions

They will grasp what needs to be done,
our land will be free and efficiently run

We’ll trust old men
who think with precision
to keep us safe
with complex decisions

Men who were there
when the work was done
promoting corporate advantage
and environmental damage

A glorious age is at hand
we’ll be safe in those trembling hands

I’m so excited about this election
about America and our direction
Lit this slash pile one week ago,
a small pile as far as slashing and burning goes
Since then it’s melted,
rained, and snowed
Unusual and erratic behavior for January
and February in this country
Country that the Salish would’ve known
to move out of before winter set in.
Shouldn’t be anything other
than frozen and buried in snow
but nothing acts now in the way
it used to, and no one can predict
what’s coming, yet we keep reporting
our guesswork like we know something,
still playing make-believe with our
ideas about control, specifically about
how we’d like to be in it—
maybe because we like the idea of
stability so much and wish we had it
despite our tireless irony.


And here is this little steam-***,
this natural wonder of vitality and perseverance,
issuing one more quiet reminder
of how little we know of our actions
or the cycles they’ve started.
Narrated this poem. You can listen to the reading here: https://youtu.be/wHaFcXWMkls?si=vn9D5y3cS2tt-F1M
Pinhole sunrise
Sodium lit
Murk and ambiguity sleep together
Down in the seabed

One moment of calm in a chaotic rift

These dark vessels
Of the fourth plateau
Scheme vicious pastimes
That live by night

Orphans of the smog
Attiré par le chaos
Soldiers of false beliefs
Progress the beauty of destruction

Their slogan:
"Making better mistakes with tomorrow"
It has the sound of a long goodbye
It lights the final flare
Gandy Lamb Sep 2023
As he was flushing the toilet, he felt a tap on his shoulder, "you shouldnt have eaten my brother" said the chicken behind him as he was beheaded.
This story is dedicated to my brother, who died after eating at church's chicken. (radiation poisoning)
Zywa Aug 2023
We're barbarians:

people who destroy what they --


do not understand.
Novel "The PowerBook" (2000, Jeanette Winterson), chapter "OPEN HARD DRIVE"

Collection "May the Might"
Zywa Aug 2023
Sometimes civilised,

refined and choosy, sometimes --


a barbarian.
Novel "The PowerBook" (2000, Jeanette Winterson), chapter "OPEN HARD DRIVE"

Collection "May the Might"
Next page