POEM: Bell of the Bawl: Owed To Gaia

An ocean of salty water rises
From the cries unheard
Submerging from the wounds of the body politic
Stupefied in the face of enduring smarts
Delugings egressing from a tsunami of 100% proof
And in the offing
Will we sea
A plan it unreckoned
A monumental reporting for doody
And an epic title wave
As if
Ridden in code
Our winter of dis content
Enough
Too roil Dicks
And a voiding watery epitaphs
How long for remediation
Four sea hoarse men
Of the epoch lips
A further fresh water solution in a pickle
Thirsting for heirs a bout them
In short order to be like fish out of water
As mo’ be whaling S.O.B.’s
As fat cats wading for their last supper
And blubbering like some baby
Seal their fete with country clubs swinging
As sow many leagues under the see
As polar bares
Their paws just warming up
As care free
As just having
A terrestrial bawl
Spurned on buy
Another species
And another round of desert
A butting such dry
As the dead panned
Hitherto buy too
Into the arc of just us
So bent
And unto reins
Those divining the rapturous
Belles wringing
Wet
Until sonar us
In due coarse
Anchor age becomes Atlantis
Unless Abel to question
For whom does the bell troll
Weight for it
It trolls for you

Ah yes, yet another poem about and deniers.  It seems that more and more reports of ongoing and impending climate disasters impel me to puke up another poem in of and disdain for deniers and other such fools.  The of a deluge of tears flooding struck me as a poetic metaphor for the actual flooding due to .  Of course, the tears are an unenviable result of our all-too-casual destruction of and all of the concomitant suicidal implications.  Weather these are human tears or ’s tears, the S.O.B.s are real.  May we embrace the threats and challenges of climate instability with bold of our only planet and lucid actions to hold accountable for any disrespecting of our Momma.

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