No One Else

The darkness
We are told stories about,
It is here,
Do not avert your eyes,
We brought it here,
Collectively conjured the deepest evils,
It is our job to reign the hellhounds,
That reside here,
It is our job to restore humanity,
To pick up,
To free from cages
the fallen,
the lost,
the battered
and bruised,
It is our job,
There is no one else.

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Hypotheticals

We all think we would
Have been the good guys in that story,
That we would have refused fascism’s demands,
We think we would have had the foresight,
The readiness to do the unpopular,
Until it happens on one’s own soil,
And then one is left in one of a few camps,
Those that acquiesce,
Those that refuse,
And those that just don’t know what to do,
What to do when humans are contained like cattle
With the label illegal,
What to do when realities of an angry mother Earth means this was no fault of their own,
What to do when being a good citizen conflicts with being a good person,
What to do when the question “what do I do?” is real
and not a hypothetical “what would I do?”
But rather ”what will I do?”

Consuming Mount Everest

Oh I see it
You see it,
We both see it too,
Our constituents can see it,
But they haven’t got a care,
Let’s climb Mount Everest and get back to…
Consumption,
Consuming ever inch of even the deadliest,
Most subversive terrain,
Because we are Man,
There is nothing outside of our domain,
No lamb, nor dove, nor tree, nor rock, nor gene, nor womb,
Someone can always claim better use,
Then use it, use it,
Use it up,
Dry the teat from which it’s sucked,
No concern for the mare,
For consumption sees not the waste,
Just the use,
And we are here in a land we soon won’t recognize,
Our children won’t believe what unused could mean,
Or look like,
our mountains dwarfed by landfills,
And our oceans become a myth,
Consume the seas, consume the trees,
The Lorax has already left,
What’s left are us hippies,
Rallying in it’s spirit,
Hoping still
that someone will wake up,
And see that this is
all just a nightmare
With an end,
We’re all waiting for
the Hollywood twist,
That deems our
ugly, air sucking
stranger than fiction truth
just that,
fiction