Dire is the End (Poem)

Peter pays for Paul in this wicked age Dire is the end of this system of slaves Bemused by dazzling paltry things As the land turns to desert And the seas are besieged Poison air and plastic rain Pesticides pollute the plains Nothing left to call pristine As we capitalize off all the living

I’m Falling (Poem)

I’m falling Who’s gon catch me? I’ve been falling a long time Ain’t nobody catching me