Untitled Poem (excerpt from Zeroth Declaration Of The Concrete Jungle)

We are saying this again
We are saying this against
We are saying this for the first time
We are saying this for the zeroth time

Life is too short… in a concrete jungle
Roots are too short… in a destroyed soil
Straws are too long… in a misunderstood oil
Machines too strong… not reducing our toil
Mouths are drying… in conditioned air
Forests are drying… only deserts compare
Species are dying… extinction extraordinaire
Vigilance is dying… few stewards to care

Is life, Is Life, really, just to die?
Shouldn’t those still living, ought to try?
To this bring your despair, don’t merely sigh
Hell likes us numb, not when we cry

So cry, comrades, cry
Cry, comrades, cry
Because without tears
The drinking, the sweating
The bleeding, the urinating
Do not justify our privileged role in the water cycle
To roll along in this sacred circle of life

Water is life, let it flow
Land is life, let property go

**This begins 5 days of political poems this week**

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