Seas of untranquility

 

Where is the tranquillity

in a world rocked by missiles, mining, murder,

and multinational monsters with Hydra heads?

No water runs clear,

nowhere does not bear our mark

the dirty paw print of the half-thing

that slouches from one broken dream to the next.

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The voiceless

A very grim quadrille for dverse this time. Life is like that, not all beer and skittles.

 

The land is silent,

sealed in concrete skin,

the orphans of elephants

murdered for their tusks,

the circus acts,

the dogs and calves in cages,

waiting for the knife,

the falling forest trees—

for those that cannot speak,

if you care,

be their voice.