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ZS Dec 2023
Mother Gaia is crying

Her tears kiss my skin as I
pollute my lungs on the porch
in a T shirt
She should be twirling
this time of year

all white-flake
fierce, cold
unapologetic skies

but we’ve been polluting Her lungs
for years
and so She cries —
warm, December rain
while I smoke
on my porch  

in a t shirt
Ignatius Hosiana Jun 2023
Gently she raised her dress, revealing where the axe struck the tree,
"Here, a forest once thrived," she whispered solemnly,
Then came the scars, pathways for plastics to reach the sea,
Regret's sewage flowing through springs, an unwanted decree.

Landmines left pockmarks on her face, remnants of war's blight,
Awaiting the innocent, seeking to maim and to ignite,
Deep incisions from perilous landslides, a haunting sight,
A testament to the struggles endured day and night.

She revealed the melting snow, beckoning an avalanche of change,
Witnessing a road where an unsightly swamp once held its range,
Broken ships and skeletons, remnants left estranged,
Abandoned in the depths, hidden in ocean's grange.

Finally, she pointed to the scorching sun with teary eyes, "It didn't burn so fiercely until this heart carried its demise."
labyrinth Nov 2021
Just because you will never be held
Accountable by the unborn face to face
A child who’s to come, yet more like expelled
Say; hundred years from now in this case

Just because you’ll never look him in the eye
Or answer his questions on the nature abuses
In the name of the reasons you had at the time
You and I both know, they were ******* excuses

Just because you can avoid that encounter
You think you can treat the globe the way you do
I’m just gonna ask to nail the lie to the counter
Tell me *******! What does that make you?
Leone Lamp Aug 2021
Last call, last shout
Last drop till the last drought
We had our chance
And we're all still blowing it
Here's the line
Who will start towing it?
Sink or swim
It's time to start rowing it

We're all standing on
Broad shoulders of greed
We all grew up dependent
on disposable sneeds
Woven from the tufts
of the Redwood trees

But it's not our fault,
It wasn't you and me
It was some old grandstander
That we'll never see

Well... Yes and no
And it only goes to show
That this house built of windows
Can't stand one more stones throw
So do we quit our jobs and stop driving?
****, I don't know...

We're past the point of blame
It's not all just a game
The more years you've got
The more hot you'll trot
Believe it or not...

So here's to the treaties!
Lower emissions and make it speedy!
**** all the billionaires,
Let's take care of the needy!

Too much to ask?

They never said it'd be easy.
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2021
Sheltered within her cryochamber, the offspring of Armageddon dreams of play. She swims in an algal bloom that no longer stings like jellyfish. She floats on the surface of content, far removed from the synthetic sea and its plastic isles. She dwells in a bubble, but her mind hangs free as a halo, soaring with clouds. But these are not the skies that sense their own act of vandalism. This is the space and ceiling of a child's mind, in her capacity to absorb disturbance and rest her tiny, fragile hope in pretended, unclaimed worlds.
Parker Vance Feb 2021
Birds of a feather flock together in the sultry atmosphere, whirring in and out of crepuscular clouds as if it were nothing special. feathers more like needles blacked under the godless face of the wind. The cliff's voice clings to their sun-smeared backs, reminds them of his own position on an empty, red planet and they sing back that gravity lament. The sky goes on about the lovely morning air and sunlight marches when all birds want is a place to lie down from that brittle flight, to rest their hollow bones filled with a lost longing.
I wonder what it would be like for birds under a red sun.
Daisy Ashcroft Feb 2021
The world is dying
Can't you see?
It's so **** obvious.
All I want is to be free.
Him Jan 2021
The world is not perfect, nor is it kind; with each progressive step forward, we leave more behind.

The rich give a copper piece, while they take ten gold. Has your charity forgotten the old man and boy, who harvest your coal? What merit is there in giving, if one takes more?

It's interesting, that humans have made "humanity" a show; kindness, compassion, fun, how many do you know?

For a world that's global warming, the hottest summer days feel so... cold.

Perhaps it is a global warning, to let the others knows, that most of us have a house... but too few, a home.

This house is a prison, its cells are polished purple heart, behind which I am truly alone; I am the person who admires this "purple" heart, though I loathe my own.

I am a whisper, reaching far and wide, through this phone. To most my words are beautiful poems; to few they are more; something that their hearts can hold, and have some warmth amidst the cold.
What need be there for notes, when all the words that I sought to speak, I have spoke? Some of you might experience contemplation and inspiration, and those hurting, some hope.
basil Nov 2020
carbon and gasoline
drowning the world in black

that's okay, i was in the mood for a swim anyway
have fun when you can't see the stars. i'll be gone by then <3
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