You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘environment’ tag.

July 7, 2016

Some spare no law, inconvenience,

to assure their continued existence.

Where were you when the axe 

cut the last tree down?

 

I should be able to drive

my Jeep in the sand over

the nests of fragile eggs

and chains of food I will never

 

comprehend. How does

that small pepper burn

so big when the microscope 

cannot even see its heat?

 

Eagles came back, you say.

Now vandals shoot them

from the sky in the ultimate

symbolic treason.  Open

season on those newly

off the list. 

 

This is Poem #115 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

April 10, 2016

MTMzMTE1MzY4MQ==

Their world is dying

For the fruit we slice up

On Cornflakes and Rice

 

Krispies. Chupacabras

Wonders between the big

Leaves and trunks and knows.

 

He should hold crops

For themselves. How

Many acres of rain

 

Forest disappear

Everyday for McDonald’s?

Homes are sinking

Into the core,

Hot, and molten, and afraid.

 

My car disappeared

Last night, pushed

Away by a giant

Beast, alone

And unbelieved in

 

Leaving empty peels

And a few drained corpses

In his wake.

 

This is Poem #57 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

 

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map below, and write from there.

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

c9qpwixh2hdjqtowyhmv

 

The news would have you

Believe that shark attacks

Are devastating

The human race –

 

Shredding our limbs,

Bloodying the ocean waters

With their appetites

And pointy teeth, but

 

Statistical data

Proves otherwise.

The number two

Animal killer of

Humans is humans.

 

The savagery of a large dog,

The venomous bite of a snake,

Are threats, I suppose, but

 

Nothing compared

To the angry young

Man with a semi

 

Automatic rifle

And a great white

Ego to sooth.

 

This is Poem #49 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

bigfoot_20lodge_20sign.0

So, Big Foot walks

Up to you in a bar –

Says, “First, I’m real.”

 

You sip your beer,

Trying to be nonchalant,

Keeping your amazement

Under wraps. “Second,”

 

He says, “Climate

Change is real. Just

Ask my cousin, the Yeti.”

 

You imagine the melting

Ice cave – the slop

on the kitchen floor –

 

The rising sea

Levels drowning

Miami, Hawaii,

 

Odiorne State Park.

Big Foot, it seems,

Was here the whole

time and laughing.

 

But, no more. “What

Do you choose to believe

In and who

informs your choice?”

 

This is Poem #48 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map above, and write from there.

 

 

monarch__1_

It is like heroin,

This need to know how

The Universe really functions,

 

And why our world

Is dying. (Who will care

about these words

 

when we’re all dead?)

Little girls chase

Monarch Butterflies

Around the yard with nets

 

Once released from classroom

Tanks and penguin

Videos rule the world.

 

(She hates science,

now we know. Can’t

have anyone thinking

critically when it disproves

her false truth.)

 

The man behind

The podium tries

To lie with an honest

Face, while fat

Checks from Koch

Brothers rot

In the bank and murder

Seven billion people,

And the Monarchs,

And the penguins.

 

This is Poem #45 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

What fuels our need

To know, to seek

Out the answers

Through myth,

 

Or through science?

Humans have always wanted

To know from where

They’ve come. Theories

 

Abound. 6,000 years

Placed by a God or

Bangs that were

Big. Millions of years

Of fossils not

Enough evidence to convince

(or convict) some

That an ancient text

Might be inaccurate.

 

We live in a time

When (morons) choose

Not to believe in

Science. Life,

Method, reason,

 

Data, even, are all biased

And to be disputed.

 

Whose power of denial

Is so strong that

They’ll watch the

Earth die

Outside their backdoors

While marking the wrong

Vote with black pen.

 

This is Poem #43 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

 

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map below, and write from there.

 

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

Coelacanth

Image from The Parody Wiki 

 

You have been swimming

in the pond,

murky,

with real monsters

the whole time.

 

There is hard evidence

now the demons

exist. Photographic

 

documentation and the fossilized

remains were never

trusted. But a dead

body always holds up

 

in court. His blue

fins swam under

his better known (and

 

believed in) ancestors –

 

Always the ghost in

the machine. He

grazed your legs

in the depths and you

cried because you had

neglected to shave.

 

Never go in the water

when you are bleeding,

he warned. My teeth

are sharp. And after

years of obfuscation

 

I will jump out

of the ocean

for a snapshot.

 

This is Poem #39 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map above, and write from there.

Here’s a little more insight into the mystery of the Coelacanth.

What happens when you learn a demon is real? All the years of falsified evidence – never a necessity and you’ve been swimming in the pond with monsters the whole time?

When you’re in between

And change is mud season,

Mucky, murky, and you

Are stuck at the side of the road,

 

Avoiding the ruts

Got you nowhere.

There is fear in the middle.

 

No one loves uncertainty,

And the risk to move forward

Seems grim. It requires

 

A shedding of the past –

The tire iron at the ready.

 

We have nothing to believe

In anymore. Science her very self

Is under the microscope,

 

And condemned a witch.

Burn her at the stake.

Her feet sway under a long, grey,

Flax dress. Tiny black

slippers pointed like a ballerina’s.

 

We should have listened

To her long ago. But denial

Is so easy to believe

When the world is dying.

 

This is Poem #34 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

Crypto Map

This poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine.

Maybe in this modern

world, we’re not meant

to be happy. Stop

drugging ourselves numb

 

to the world this is dying.

Sealions exit their sea –

for lack of food and

heated waters, enter

 

CA diners and beg

for cheeseburgers.

Not long until the food

chain infractions reach us;

but Soma makes us

 

wait and just see

what will be without

any effort to stop it.

 

These aquatic mammals

sent to assure

us, the world is dying,

but we’re too polluted

to care.

 

This is Poem #17 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.
This poem was a response to a news item that I’d recently encountered.  The drawing below accompanied the first draft.
zVbq2xSKQxy8x+GAo1nh7A
I appreciate your feedback as these poems are not “finished,” and I intend to go back into many of them in the future.

 

Goodreads

Lady Diction’s Calendar

April 2020
M T W T F S S
 12345
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
27282930