ADOLESCENTS

(Part #2 of the "Us vs Mother Earth" poem trilogy).

We are the "talk of the town"

"voices of the now",

"preachers of the present",

Because time's running out.

 

We cry a tremorous lament, sent

over the edge of this future, our swan song 

cinched to lives spent

Pulling with the gravity of famished arms,

Pitted crater palms in place of alms,

Born from the brink of time that man doth dread. 

yet pleading still, our negligence - they wrap,

snapping, the way only taut skin over bone

can snap.

 

They are the "targets of the town",

"victims of the now",

"prey of the present",

And their time has run out.

 

Determined are we, fueled and seething

Turning our backs to take every beating

Nevermore shall they hunger again.

We feel that we're ready for a different escape-

 

We fill the saviour role leftovers, 

Become rulers for a day in this

ill-fitting

hand-me-down gown

Don a counterfeit crown

Tell our people under our new nation, "nevermore" 

Tell them "nevermore" 

to lull them from our peripherals

Tell each other "nevermore" 

and anchor this weight

Honestly tell no-one, 

keep our literary weapons to 

cheap childish diaries and 

glitter-gel inks.

Become children for a day in this

ill-fitting,

hand-me-down,

counterfeit,

"over it"

World.

 

O Mother, 

We are purgatory-bound

Not old enough to be valid yet valiantly 

knighted to this battle

Not young enough to be coddled yet cobbled 

quickly together

This reign is inextricably, umbilically,

part of our awkward frames, our unripe bodies,

ripped from loamy ground.

O Mother,

If we use our youth as excuse from the moment we crown

Is it pitiful? Are the hungry stomach pits full?

Are we excused? Is starvation a ruse?

Is all forgiven?

Are we… 

                                    forgiven?

Dear diary, 

are we forgiven?

O Mother,

Should we trick you

Dip thermometers in your searing seas

And tell you of our fever?

Asphyxiate your earth with thick rot

And tell you of our gastric flu?

Refuse to speak and let your people hunger

And tell you of our appetite? 

Or scariest of all,

Convince you we are the ones hurting.

Coax you like our predecessors.

Continue the cycle.