Oops! I missed some days, oh well:
I Saw Her Crying in Tom Planter’s Field
I saw her crying in Tom Planter’s field,
The blonde-haired girl in black nobody knows,
Her eyes were hollowed out, her raw lips peeled,
She wore a silver bullring through her nose.
She bore the scars of herbicidal birth,
The effluent she drank from river sewers,
The fertilisers ploughed in her moist earth,
The weed-killers and steroid-laced manures.
She showered herself in fairy liquid froth,
Her neck was hung with fishing leads on line,
She ate our waste, drank disinfectant broth,
And breathed our soot and diesel fumes so fine.
Let’s hold a wake and pray for Mother Earth,
Her hair of acid rain forest, etched black,
Her eyes, green, petrol jelly lakes,
The extinct broods, her children, won’t come back,
The angel turns and life begins anew,
She bows her head and leads me to a place,
A kissing gate through which the chosen few,
Will pass while we all rot in our disgrace.