#habitat
Do colors seem pastel through eyes?
Yellow sunshine overhead
I wonder if hues would still appear bright
If your property instead..
It could've stopped escalating
Long long long ago
No quantity of ******* in the universe
Will stop from feeling hollow
I'm sure ways exist to justify
Type of behavior I hate
Perception of surroundings is so skewed
Probably think it looks great
Why would tidiness matter to you?
Not like the lot is in your name
I am the one forced to deal with consequences
You are the one to blame
It is obvious to any rational mind
Discipline is way past due
No longer willing to ignore the signs
The problem is linked to you
You distinctly do not give a **** about our feelings
Otherwise wouldn't have even begun
Now your hoarding is so out of hand
Don't recognize what land has become
I suppose that is what we get for our kindness
Foolishness leading us here
No good deed unpunished
If nothing else that much is clear
This destiny avoidable
Would have been easy to just say no
Generosity in our nature
Had no clue collection would grow
Don't comprehend how people live
In such a state of disarray
Chaos utterly consuming all around
Convinced carnage completely okay
I would have never guessed a human being
Could be so disastrous by design
Have been too lenient but now
It is about time we draw the line
We offered a chance to change outcome
Still carry on making a mess
Zero guilt or remorse displayed
This is what you call "trying your best"
The stress getting heavier
Longer we allow mayhem to go on
Most ******** part is I suspect you believe
Truly aren't doing anything wrong
Maybe seek professional help
Only suggesting because I care
Anyone with some degree of mental stability
Of disorder would be aware
So you either are totally insane
Or taking advantage of our big hearts
Regardless something has to give
Before each vehicle there is in parts
The blatant disrespect overwhelming
Allow an inch and you take a mile
Only solution I can figure out
Has been coming awhile
Our patience wearing for months
Finally it has broken through
After the ******** we've tolerated
What do you expect us to do?
Just let you persist in accumulating junk?
As if deed to there is your own?
Until entire acre is swallowed up
And gone is beautiful location once-known
You have already inflicted a huge excess
Of destruction that can't be reversed
Acting entitled to anything there
Helping yourself without inquiring first
When you first parked bus we were misled
Under impression it was a temporary situation
Fact that your habitat keeps expanding
Expresses this is more than only a vacation
Are you even seeking somewhere else
To store belongings and dwell?
From where I'm standing it appears
You revel in making lives hell
Trash scattered in corners
Gets worse as you round each next turn
Are you that lazy and careless?
You can't put in one place and burn?
You disassemble things for no reason
If unbroken you tear it in pieces
Never reconstructing the objects you ruin
All the while cache increases
If not halted the amount will proceed growing
Until visible from space
I'd like to admit you are capable
Sadly that is not the case
Not to mention attention drawn
From law enforcement appearing there
Responding from neighbor's calls
Epitomizing our worst nightmare
The two properties connected by owner
Labels us negatively for sure
Positive cops are just awaiting the opportunity
To obtain warrant to search our house once more
Yet doesn't bother you at all
If so you'd minimize risk
Not use grow light to illuminate
And litter public street and ditch
And in the aftermath of these awful actions
Don't apologize for mistakes
Enough is enough
Party is over
Only so much we can take
It's your moment to float along to different shores
A destination new
Feeling physically ill every visit
Welcome is outworn-please shoo!
Half of me honestly fully fed up
Other side weakened by sympathy
I fear if I continue to endure treatment
You will simply walk all over me
And when finally you do move on
Left with an unholy mess
Which will cause a meltdown
Imploding from distress
So I kindly ask you hit the road
Commence process at once
Should have evicted weeks ago
That's not what any of us really want
I hope you don't interpret as declaration of war
You've become used to this "paradise"
Wouldn't have minded you staying here
If you kept it looking nice
But your indiscreet disregard for our disapproval
Has us craving distance badly
For our sanity's sake
You're too selfish sadly
This doesn't mean we don't like you
Loathe the position we're in
Wish we also could embrace the anarchy
Our essence is lacking the echoes within
If there was compromise to be discovered
Wouldn't plead for you to leave
Our standards are so drastically different
Insists harmony impossible to achieve
We often have people abuse our compassion
Silence disrupted only when too much to bear
After being disappointed over and over
Of shadows we should be aware
But within our core care more than we should
Inner voice whispering "they'll have nowhere to go"
If your intention was to carry on residing there
You would have improvement instead of negligence to show
We've idled for months while you should have cleaned up
Take one step forward than two right back
It's evident you won't come to your senses
Perhaps we've cut you a bit too much slack
Now forced to gather belongings
Pick garbage up off the ground
Don't want air to be cold between us
Still don't mind you coming around
I tried hard to be gentle
To my heart I must remain true
Only way to salvage my future home
Is stop you before damage is too bad to undo
Nov 17, 2024
Nov 17, 2024 at 3:34 PM UTC
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
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 5:48 AM UTC
“several wolves were introduced...
...rejuvenating vegetation
with the deer henceforth
avoiding those areas”
and now behold sprouting grass
and blossoming branches;
makes you think whether balance
always leans on a quota of violence
I start seeing in my park
the flora is suffering
I’ve let in too many deer
and they’ll eat everything offered;
they know not when to stop
leaving the trees bare *****
chewing the bark
just because it is there.
And I'm sorry my deer
but our gardens could use some wolves
for the good of the land
(but we’re) learning the hard way,
seeing the truth in
“Too much of a good thing cannot be a good thing”
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 6:55 AM UTC
Change starts
With the formation of habit.
The simplest action
Will flip that switch in your frontal lobe.
The reason we call
What we do on a regular basis
A habit,
Is because we live in the decisions we make everyday.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 3:37 PM UTC
I sailed the fjords between Powell River and
Drury Inlet to beyond the Salish Sea.
The land itself spoke from mountains, water falls, islets
From bird song and bear splashing fishers
From rutting moose and cougars sharp incisors.
The place has a scale that needs no advisers
But in our bodies felt, sensed in our story talking.
The Chinese spoke of sensing place by the four dignities
Of Standing of Reposing of Sitting or of Walking.
Indigenous peoples of the passage added of Paddling by degrees
For the Haida and Salish sang their paddles to taboos
To the rhythm of the drum in their clan crested canoes.
Trunks transformed indwelling people who swam like trees.
First Nations marked this land, made drawings above sacred screes
As they walked together, to gather, share and thank the spirit saplings.
So Dao-pilgrims in the blue sacred mountains of Japan rang their ramblings.
Now the loggers’ chainsaws were silent like men who had sinned.
I motored now for of wind not a trace -
I could see stories from the slopes, hear tales in the wind.
Modern hieroglyphs spoke from clear-cuts both convex and concave.
Slopes of burgundy and orange bark shaves
Atop the beige hills, and in the gullies the silver drying snags
and the brilliant pink of fire **** tags
A tapestry of times in work.
A museum of lives that lurk.
Once the logging camps floated close to the head of inlets.
Now rusting red donkeys and cables no longer creak,
Nor do standing spar trees sway near feller notched trunks,
Nor do grappler yarders shriek as men bag booms and
Dump bundles in bull pens.
The names bespeak the work.
Bull buckers, rigging slingers, cat skinners, boom men and whistle punks.
…………………………………………………………………….
Ashore to *** with my dog I saw a ball of crushed bones in ****
Later we heard the evocative howl of a wolf
And my pooch and I go along with the song
Conjoining with the animal call
In a natural world fearsome, sacred and shared.
------------------------------------------------------------
Old bunk houses have tumbled, crumbling fish canneries no longer reek.
Vietnam Draft dodgers and Canucks that followed the loggers forever borrowed -
Their hoisting winches, engines, cutlery, fuel, grease and generators.
While white shells rattled down the ebbing sea.
Listing float homes still grumble when hauled on hard.
Somber silhouettes of teetering totems no longer whisper in westerlies
Near undulating kelp beds of Mamalilakula.
Petroglyphs talk in pictures veiled by vines.
History is a tapestry
And land is the loom.
Every rock, headland, and blissful fearsome bay
Has a silence that speaks when I hear it.
Has a roar of death from peaking storms when I see it.
Beings and things can be heard and seen that
Enter and pass through me to evaporate like mist
From a rain dropped forest fist
And are composted into soil.
Where mountains heavily wade into the sea
To resemble yes the tremble and dissemble
Of the continental shelf.
Where still waters of deception
Hide the tsunamis surging stealth.
Inside the veins of Mother Earth the magmas flow
Beneath fjords where crystalised glaziers glow.
Here sailed I, my dog and catboat
Of ‘Bill Garden’ build
The H. Daniel Hayes
In mountain water stilled
In a golden glory of my remaining days.
In Cascadia the images sang and thrilled
Mamalilikula, Kwak’wala, Namu, Klemtu
The Inlets Jervis, Toba, Bute, and Loughborough.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
You stare at me through the cage walls,
Your eyes full of wonder
And heart filled with love.
Your hands hit the glass that separates me from you,
Or you from me.
And you stare
Like I’m some kind of zoo animal.
You’ve dreamed all your life, since you were three
To see me in my natural habitat,
But since my old home is all gone,
Destroyed.
Ruined.
Burned.
Your dreams have changed.
You paid ten dollars,
But what is one Alexander Hamilton
Compared to the experience
To come see me in action,
Licking my paws and ears
As I sit here, bored
In a cage that resembles nothing but a fake home made of plastic and
Fake rocks.
There is a show at noon.
I’ll have to go to a separate cage, one with a view from above.
And you and a hundred others
Will watch in amazement while I chase raw meat that’s dragged around a pole.
You laughed and say it’s funny, awesome, how fast I am.
You should have seen me when I was home.
I was better.
I chased real food.
It wouldn't be so bad
Except for the fact that your world seems to romanticize the idea
That I would want to be stared at
To have you stare at me through a glass wall
While I sit there,
In my cage
Bored.
Out of my natural mind.
But, it's all for your entertainment, right?
I mean, all you paid was a single Alexander Hamilton.
And now,
You stand there after I’m back in my original cage.
You stare
On the other side of that glass wall,
The one that protects you from me,
Or me from you.
And you stare
Like I’m some kind of zoo animal.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 12:41 PM UTC
So much depends
on a yellow
Bulldozer
Caked with mud
Beside thoughts
of payday
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 4:03 PM UTC