What world have we created
The place that conforms us to what we swallow as bad news
Are your eggs runny or rubbery
That's how we overlook mass shooting
Not the reverse
Breeding scepticism and hatching cynicism and gathering dung for the garden
It burns, this world
Instead of dashing water to extinguish
Take an antacid or mediate with running away to a sitcom
The shit pile in the garden however
Has tunneled to china
Straight thru hell the news kept going gathering momentum
The trees fell in, along with the rivers, the ocean once so large couldn't quench the void, news at six
There is a halo however
From what seems a devouring industry of hate fed on hate watered by violence fertilized with money
A cool mist that harbors what's left
Bird songs, bird chatter, entire bird species, bird habitat, bird poems and their sightings and itinerary
Focus away from the square
Glass screen away from the bigger hate projectors and bundled distraction contraptions
The eggs are speckled in hidden nests
Made of twigs leaf they last awhile and go back to soil
It fills in the void if we let it
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