what comes tomorrow
leaves some elements of doubt
earths rain wind and fire
seems to dominate the skies
save for our eternal light
arctics melting ice
overflowing tropic isles
oceans reclaim land
earthquakes raise tectonic plates
tsunamis obliterate
carbon dioxide
polluting earths atmosphere
fossil fuels banned
net zero global warming
when will mankind understand
8 / 15 / 2025
The Earth isn't dying—no, she's screaming, a sound you've stopped hearing.
she cried when girls walked miles for rusted, tainted water,
when ancient forests become forgotten, ash–filled pyres,
no worn map ever dared to mark.
In my homeland,
we don't fear the tempest's furious might.
We fear the silence –
The hollow echo of empty, cracked wells,
the desolate stretch of barren, parched fields,
The early,unforgiving digging of our graves.
They label us “developing,”
yet we are always the very first to drown,
The very first to wither from hunger's bite,
The very first to forfeit a future
we never, ever sought to destroy.
They peddle green, plastic-wrapped illusions.
“Eco.” “Clean.”
As if mere words could somehow
unscorch the blazes from the sky.
But behold, we stand–
girls with bare hands, replanting the struggling forests,
boys coding, fighting against the swift collapse,
children marching, with fierce fire in their lungs.
I continue to write.
Because even now,
The Earth, in her enduring wisdom, still believes in us.
Our greenhouse gases pour and pour
And now we see the latest score.
Something’s gone wrong with atmosphere
As rising temperatures we fear.
But we’re clever and we’ll fix it
It will not drop us in the s--t.
So still we dump more see-o-two
That disappears into the blue.
Carbon we keep on burning it
Because it brings healthy profit.
We pollute and we walk away.
But perhaps it is time to pray.
River makes its final clunk
Between
Hills
Rolling boulders like turtle shells
Empty of their mouths and hearts
River bent
Flailing legs and neck
No longer reflects
The sun and moon
From water’s absence down its back.
Turns her terrible brittle head
From me
Teeth gnashing on the spools of willow
To her memory
When mud was forest
Footsteps
Croaking with frogs and dazzled with dragonflies
Ringed in a halo of cold fog.
We are dying
Together
Not angels nor even demons
But conquering visitors from a desert
Who brought nothing but the leech of desert
With us
Covering the entire Earth with insatiable thirst
And hunger
Kings and Queens for a day
Destroyers
Of those ceremony drums
Of gods and plants animals and language
When we lived as One
Gift
Strummed through the harp of gratitude.
Now, I seek a forgiving signal
From perhaps a divine wave
Coming from the dying Mother
This way
You poor skinless fool
The fire shall burn behind you
The entire Earth and its people
Which is all the things that flutter
Crawl walk and sing
"An empty bowl
With a spoon beside you."
12 when I wrote this, from the perspective of a mushroom.
My gills grasping at air, but the grass is not too far;
My scales glimmering stupidly to shine through watered tar.
And in the gaseous tarmac world, I shine here far too bright,
And oh, the air, too stale if for my gills to get it right.
I long to build a house and make a living off of sticks,
Press flowers to make bookmarks. Feather ink dips.
And for one day, to hear ... a knocking or a rattle
Of rats and pigeons at my door. To me, should they grapple
I wished to fly away with birds, claws ripping flesh and all
To find my new roots in the sky: frail, delicate, tall.
I wished to burrow in the ground when I must collapse.
I wish to hide me from the world. I wish for a relapse.
A tingle down my stem, my gills no longer pulchrify
My dirtied shine, my residue: I tell you, "eye for eye."
This vivid tarmac world around me, perfectly reflecting
How little you appreciated when we were worth defending.
Revelations ch eleven verse eighteen.' (When I was a child
I acted like a child and thought as a child..? Yet now i am
Grown i must put away the things of childhood ' this last
Parable talks about me as a person..For I did once think
That the ' climate change ideaology' had merit.' And God
Was part of the enviroment..Yet the Truth is God is God is
Above all things.. And the destroyers.' Are in fact the eco
Zealots pagan earth worshippers..The wisdom of worldly
Counsel is evaporating before the eyes of any whose eyes
Are open.'
Earth's fever rising,
Melting ice, a silent tear,
Future starts to drown.
©bfa042325
Seasons
the Earth's rotations
the Earth's revolution
Seasons
the full moon
the half and crest moon
the moon's revolution.
Industrial revolution
man's achievement
Industrial revolution
Earth's doom
Industrial revolution
Man's demise
Man's gain, Oxygen's loss
Environment's loss
Carbon's gain
Green House gases
Ozone's nemesis.
(Written on the 20th of March, 2015)
Flash floods, prolonged droughts
Ozone's nemesis
Excessive heat, extreme cold
Ozone's nemesis.
Every tree felling
Is Oxygen's loss
Is Carbon's gain
Ozone layer depletion
Humanity losing out
In the end game.
The Earth is speaking soft and low,
In melting ice and winds that blow.
The fragile world, we watch it break,
With every storm and every quake.
The oceans rise,the forests thin,
A quiet battle deep within.
The rain that falls, the tides complain,
Are lessons hard for us to learn?
The rivers dry, the mountains mourn,
As nature's heart is bruised and worn.
But in the dark, there shines a light,
A chance to stand, a chance to fight.
Plant the seeds, let forests breathe,
Protect the life that lies beneath.
The world we craft, the love we show,
Will shape the land our children know.
So rise with heart and stand with grace,
So save this precious , sacred place.
For every action, great or small,
Can shape the future of us all.
Everything is normal
so not much to sing or say.
No summer thunderstorm,
the snow was magical only for an hour.
Old men
aren’t removing women’s panties with removable dentures.
A belly laugh now and then,
an empty belly’s holy.
With simple joy
mortals may forget to fear their deaths.
Simply put,
we do not survive. But what an adventure!
I heard an archangel cry
Don’t hurt the trees!
Also, save democracy.
Also, stop barking, believing in that higher power.
What’s Ken doing today?
Watching TED talk lectures,
planning next Spring’s garden.
It’s Death, not the Jewish king, in your rose garden.
As climates change
species escape predators
and predators chase down prey.
Choose sacrifice or blame.
I look at faces
and they look at mine, mute, animated spirits,
black wet rocks,
victims among flames.
I embrace my anonymity,
lost in my own city,
in the shade of a gazebo,
a mosquito’s acceptance of its position among a million mosquitoes.
Above is the place
I wish to race
Above is the face
I wish to grace
Where people dreams age
And where thunderstorms rage
The wildest dreams take courage
And where you feel the stars stage
Above is the Term
That we use when success has arms
The word that manifest richness alarm
Reminder of bellow and its germ
Reminder of the bare minimum firm
That has been bestowed on human farm
To the Darest point of life
To the darest point of achievements
Above is the habitat
That reminds us of climate change and stats
The human effects on what protects us from start
The deepest conversation and debate that doesn't need a flirt
Its effect grave on living organism on earth
And the word is deep in the heart
That indeed human should be reminded in an art
Of the beautiful nature we destroy without the guts
Of the ugliness it leaves and lives it hurts
Above is the pace
Where Motivation is driven and ridden
Word that keeps a vision not bedridden
The pace that reminds one to wake talents hidden
To betterment and change venture den
A world of production and not purely consumers.
#Khocxschool
There’s children growing up that believe the stars
sound like crickets chirping,
for their only exposure to these sources of wonder
are through over-exposure to blue light and radio waves
and soundtracks overlaying simulations.
The night they know
is bright as day,
lit by “satellite internet constellations”
or fogged out by the price of progress.
They don’t understand what it is to stare upwards
and be humbled in awe.
That’s what’s wrong with men today;
they never look up, never gaze around.
They only march forward on a path
marked with dollars instead of footprints
and fail to take heed of the wails around them.
But at least one day, when
we’ve siphoned the earth dry to fuel
“achievements”
(greed),
when the cities are burning from the debts of desire,
the children will look up at the stars that aren’t stars
and hear real crickets chirping
and they won’t be afraid of the end.
Wind lashed fronds whip a neck twisting air.
Florida bleeds green.
A large woman in a rainbow muumuu,
a toy poodle pushed tightly into her folds
wades into the storm determined
to bring a hurricane to heel.
The land has now flooded high enough
to expose alligator snouts.
The Cajun navy hoists its Jolly Roger,
golf carts are boarded,
elderly men in white and tartan shorts
are reluctantly rescued.
A badly shaken sunset dives for cover.
Along an invisible shoreline Tiki lights
twinkle on.
Climate Chang Renga Poem
climate is changing
bad weather is everywhere
California burns
hurricanes howling
tornados and winter storms
climate deniers
saying it is all a hoax
monster storms abound
nature does not care at all
the climate deniers lie
Climate Change Grook Poem
climate changing
hot weather everywhere
followed by short brutal winter
Is this the end-of-the-world?
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