Saturday, May 22, 2010

All the nature, the nature
it just isn't natural anymore.
Who will read a poem written
about the wilderness that is a blade of grass
or the house that is a great oak
a thousand times?
The words, they're stale.
But I'm sure those masters never thought
images of spring would fall limp and gray
as a pile of winter sloughing of dead skin.
And that's sad,
but it's not a shame.
We are the children of nature,
but not this docile,
powdered whore who they call our mother.
I have a window, and right outside it, is a tree.
I can look at it anytime I feel like I need to return to the fold of Earth.
But, I have a double layer of curtains,
because I feel like it.
I think they forget that nature is a brute monkey,
a hyena feasting on discards,
biting cold,
sand storms,
hair growing underneath the arms.
Stealing, that is nature.
Kindness is a corruption of what is natural.
Yet, we have learned from our mother's drunken mistakes.
We are better than her, we don't have to reassure ourselves.
But we still don't own her, we cannot own what gave us, us.
Why then the odes that go on for hours in endless
self-conscious praise of a matriarch,
who left us at ten, snotnosed and dumb?
I don't know, I prefer to keep my curtains drawn.  


  1. We have learned from mother nature's drunken mistakes.

    There was some drumming in this that sounded like...

    the sound our generation makes without realizing where we're marching.

    Very strong.

  2. This poem really made me think - I find it very beautiful and reassuring.
    Thank you so much for your contributive comment!
    I very much agree; it depends on the occassion.
    UO x

  3. I love this poem and your blog, made me think too. Keep up the good work!

    xo Miu

    Feel free to take a look at our new blog: cotton candy bisous :)!

  4. a lovely comment on the world we live in