Shave a little here,
a little less right there.
Save money and give
them something they
think they want, there’s
so many of them, there’s
so much profit to be made…
they will never know.
But Mother Earth is watching.
Thinking what fools they must be.
What short profits can make of me.
For when I shake my hips as I do,
they will be made to pay and it will
be unfair and ugly and I will leave
a scar unto you, for you
failed to respect me.
And the sirens will wail as the
walls come crashing in,
and the heroes will rush to save
those who can be saved, and those
who can’t will pay the price of
profit’s greed, and it will not be fair,
it will never be fair, for how could
it be anything but a tragedy.
As Mother Earth straightens the
wrinkles of her dress, spinning
to her own music, with no sorrow,
no remorse, for she is who she is,
compellingly beautiful and often
deadly, and she will be respected,
she will keep her own counsel
on when and how, and where
she will be heard!