Chomp, stomp the first snail you come across on blackforest roadAs the wildfire spreads, money talks and speaks foul words of wisdomHe grins at you as though he has none a worry in the worldAbsorbed in his orb of acorns and the hamster nemesisA new prospect creeps into his wooden habitatSending his values rushing down a current of intergalactic loggerswith critters driving a new world order of purposeChomp… stop.
What matters the most to a beaver? Trees, dams, and currencyAs the beaver family huddles closely during the raging storm,eating maple syrup – they thank the beaver gods that they’re alive.On the banks of the Yangtze, they stop to see the approaching horizonOriental mental state as they stop… and wait.
Have you seen what a deforestation bulldozer can do to a man?Tickle my feet, honk my nose, crash into the politician’s taxi in front of you..Follow the granola bar trail out of the next death defying scenarioTravel an expanse of redwood furry pellets, then let out a cluck of reliefAs I shit out the stack of woodwind flutes from last week.
The Chinese child stares at you with his death eyelidsMumbling the next anime character’s dialogueYou pat him on the head and hand him a dollarHe giggles nonstop, because he doesn’t know..The creatures of Nibble are coming to crack the surface.
The phantom of the opera glides through the greeneryOne sits out from the rest, observing from his plump embroidermentOf follicles, tentacles, and binoculars through the girl’s locker roomMolten rock coats the ice haven where paper rectanglesGrow on trees and fall off the axis
I can’t control myself any longer…the beavers are taking over!
In : Poetry