Molly maid in her stand for kids
Rattled the establishments cold line
2020 she said its wrong to mask
Young srudents in creative time
There is no science to prove its worth
Yet much to tell carbondioxide grinds.'
The waste of the lungs drawn back in
To damage health.' Every breath each time.'
And but a ploy, a gesture only.'
Caused division, and made kids lonely
Also lockdowns hit mental health
Drove down learning, it seemed so phony
Instead of causing mass immunity.'
Mad measures worked against all bodily
Continuity, to weaken en'mass was all it
Could ' and to achive better its known we
Should, seek exposure as millenia have proven
Balance elements and vitality against each ill
For sickness will come and they will go, our bodys
Are designed to compute; the very best defence.'
Why (didn't we know.?)
Categories:
carbondioxide, education,
Form: Rhyme
Like humans have a life,
Although people don’t face a murder charge
For hacking them down.
Like humans indulge in strife
But don’t wear their animosities like a barge
Nor noise them in the town.
Like man, parade a breathing mechanism,
Though it is carbon dioxide they cherish
And like him answers an organism
Granted that they don’t oxygen relish.
No tree ever halts the knives
About to be driven into its bark
Nor mourns their piteously lost lives
To axes operating before dark;
Scarcely panicked by wanton disturbance,
The very contrast of African Presidents in countenance.
Above King David cutting gallantry
That earns a subject panegyric commentary…
The monarch by his Absalom was mortally scared;
The barks of all trees are to their enemies bared.
Categories:
carbondioxide, creation, environment, fruit, life,
Form: Rhyme
Life is a tree that grows without focus,
A pool that flows without source.
Her fruits are dejecting and nourishing,
Varying from 'Carbondioxide' through
'Oxygen'.
Take life as a rigid rock,
Like an egg it'll be mocked.
Take her even as an egg,
Then she'll prove that she's a furious peg.
Life is whatever you think:
A classical music in it's brink?
She sits at the exit of death,
Beckoning to passerbys jailed by threat.
Life is the song of the soul,
Mending broken heart and battered sole.
Life is an episode bewitched with doubt;
Afraid of leaving the exit for the south.
Categories:
carbondioxide, allegory,
Form: Quatrain