No flowers, no bees, but here eat some fries.
We weep for all that can no longer grow,
soft trees still recite what we scarcely know.
Glazed telly vigils while sipping Bordeaux,
not noticing then the slow rising flow.
No place to escape from this poisoned sky,
if only we questioned it sooner, why?
Carpeted, concreted, depleted soul,
forgetting we too are ocean and snow.
Part water, part air and magic unknown,
now just packaged skin and picked apart bone.
No longer do winds blush warm with birdsong,
hollowed out by progress hums, vain, cold, strong.
Greed, give back to us what we have now lost,
as if we knew what true wilderness cost.
Shopping aisles lit, all lined up in a row,
like that's the apex of success to show.
Stillness won't be found in consumption shrines,
but rather in spaces nature defines.
Watching in silence, we voiceless ones weep,
how Sir, can you find in dreamless fields sleep?
When hell spreads hot, don't say you didn't know,
from black shores we told you, we told you so.
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