Climate Change

The creative dead
Are getting together
To talk about the weather
The living dull,
Have fucked it up, and the
Tears of Mother Nature
Flood the rivers
And drown the land.

II

She cries for the sins of humanity
And burns the earth in anger.
The chosen one will be remade
And paradise renewed.
The garden shall be replanted
But not with the virus of men.

III

Until my friend
I will linger and wait
For my place among
The creative dead.

pth