Bodyaches

My body aches with the crack of time,

Upturned, upended–the bending of the days.

I lay here in quiet supine

The grim news of a world in wait.

Folded and handled,

Like linen too white.

They rock them their slave ship,

Oscillating from fake left to far right.

The deafest ears

They come with the blindest of eyes.

The shoreline recedes,

Don’t they see rivers dried?

Still we buy their Saran wrapped dream,

The metal tins, their packaged brands.

Overfilled, our earth eats polystyrene,

Even as the machine devours our lands.

Do they not hear our earth heave?

Her children ignore her signs.

Lost in fleeting things,

False witnesses to false shrines.

Manufacture a fear

Shock-doctrine it to results.

We are what they say,

Begotten to be got.

And still they hold the stakes.

In denial of the raging storm,

The earth trembles and quakes,

But lies are well adorned.

My body aches, the earth mother sighs,

The end seems certain, self-destruction realized.

But still I use my words, dire in this hope.

I loosen the font, can we loosen the rope…