Judgment and Verdict for Every Earth Righteous Hell to the No

When the establishment keeps records...

you become a document

in a file updated by senior staff

where inaccuracies work to an advantage,

create blurred lines and incomprehensible demands.

Freedom and justice require less paperwork but

“It’s not that simple,” I’m told.

Societies operate under the illusion of sovereignty,

citizens the illusion of self-determination.

There are 2 x 10 to the 23 complexity degrees

that all the graphics in the world

won’t make any clearer at grassroots level

where the self-same soil cries of crimes

and roots knew righteousness long before humanity

had half a brain cell to contemplate earth’s equilibrium.

*

Since donkeys and dirt,

you’ve slung propaganda

a tactical wall,

a distant fortress to dissuade fervor,

wear down passion-mad masses and stagnate momentum.

Been too long coming.

Channeling every felled tree

while it gifted photosynthesis for your stupid ass.

Judgment: Flood fire drought mudslides extreme rainfall/heat storms

Bodies breaching discontent

as microplastics found in blood and bronchioles.

Breath in stridor

struggling for air due to a homo sapiens lunatic

who would choke the right to inhale on well-constructed rhetoric

*

Verdict: No more sand-drawn lines or diplomatic summits

to screw mediated negotiations of nothingness ‘til I die.

Not buying what you selling.

Presentation-coated warped perception-driven strategies

incinerating precious time.

Ain’t. Playing.

Wanna lose?

Fight fair.

Go on.

While I sucker punch

the shizzay outta corporate interests

and net zero emission targets

trailing sloths and snails

for the longest ever running game of ‘Mother May I’

where they’ve been a snot cheat since beginnings

and believe Mama Earth oblivious.

Idiots

to think I care about appearances.

An ugly win is still a win.

I’ll sink to bruised bloodiness

illegal hair pulls

throat strikes

and below-the-belt blows.

After all is said and done

there will be a liveable planet

while they

delusional and down-for-the-count

thought I’d wait ‘til 2050.

Hell no.

Thank you so much for reading my poem! Your support is immensely important to me.

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