The world is drowning

The world is drowning in a salty sea of toxic death,
Alas, none of us was told to build an ark.
The river banks smashed away by whipping wind and ripping rain,
A soggy apocalypse brought swiftly to bear.

While the levels sit soaking in tidal furore,
The gorges and dams hear barely a trickle.
The fickle fiddlers in the hot seat give not a hoot,
Their loot is their gain, no shame, no shame.

Sinking

Like in a James Bond movie,
We're trapped in a sinking submarine.
As the water rises, gathering steam,
The trap-door, above, looks cloudy.

Healthy insects

Replace your chicken with a cricket,
Your lamb shank with a locust,
Your peppered steak with a mealworm cake,
Your bacon with waxworms,
And your chop with a grasshopper.

And you'll live a whole lot longer.

The lashing rain

Then, it started,
and down it came,
in torrents and torrents
the lashing rain.
The pebbles dashed,
the windows splashed,
and little currents
careered down steep lanes.

And still it came,
yet harder to tame,
in torrents and torrents
the lashing rain.
The flood plains flashed,
the river banks thrashed,
and meandering currents
made up the lanes.

And on, the same,
with yet more disdain,
in torrents and torrents
the lashing rain.
In vain came the sun,
through clouds on the run,
But thunderous torrents
resumed, no refrain.

With force renewed
the wheelie bins flew,
in mounds of detritus
the litter was strewn,
And sinking, alas,
amid plastic bags,
the boughing branches
and flora were slewn.

And stronger, again,
the river's tirade,
in torrents and torrents
amid climate change.
The lashing thuds
and flashing floods
forever may claim
from men their terrain.

The wise person builds
their house on the rock,
alluvium plains
will never stand the rain.
But rock and sand
may well be the same
as the winds batter on
while the climate talks stagger.

Climate bankruptcy

I look at a world of rain and seas,
of grassy fields and bushy trees,
Of humming birds and bumbling bees,
of sunny summers and winter's breeze.

As far as the eye can see
the planet spins, the world goes round,
But frack the surface, drill down deep,
and find the time to act is now.

The world I see means the world to me,
but to the greedy it's cheap and easy.
Why can't they see, what quite apparently,
Might mean the end...
                                  their bankruptcy.

The swarm

A swarm of seven billion sprawls,
Spouting fumes and spitting fire,
Slashing trees, no brains, just brawn.

From swall to swell

From swall to swell,
In Britain, who can tell?
Storms one second, the next it's well.
You never know what coat to wear,
The trees may stand, some trees may fall.
But one thing is certain, from days of yore,
The storms are irregular, these days, for sure.

The Cabinet, A Canny Name

They're twenty two, to me, to you,
Some like yellow, some look blue,
It matters not, they're lying to you,
Tuition fees and fossil fuels.

The cabinet, a canny name,
Blue or yellow? All the same.
To them, the party's just a name,
They stand for nowt except their gain.

How liberal can a democrat be
If women hardly rule the party?
While Rennard could do what he pleased,
Grabbing boobs and fondling knees.

And for the Tories, what a breeze,
From Eton school to wine soirees.
At birth, a worth, of a billion pennies,
Hard to see, for some, life's not easy.

And lending, spending, what a jive,
Insidious deceit, like drones in hives,
Increasing debt, spreading lies,
An employment rise yet lives demise.

Michael Gove, tyrannical rogue,
Acadamies were his new vogue,
A building new but kids of old,
And not enough to stop the fold.

Their hearts are cold, their minds are set,
The wealthy ones whose cash is kept,
And taken from the poor, in debt,
While MPs wage increases yet...

The Fracking Liar - Vanessa Vine versus Peter Lilley.

They’re fracking gas from underground,

They’re fracking mad, not fracking sound.

As peaceful people sit around,

The GMP will batter down.

Fracking gas and cracking houses,

What’s the craic? It’s fracking lousy.

Earthquake tremors thrashing loudly,

Houses crashing down around me.

In Barton Moss, the caring call,

The GMP don’t care at all.

The "greenest ever" Tories fall

And kill the air, and fill with gall.

Peter Lilley, silly-billy,

Bathes in crude oil willy-nilly.

Won’t admit to lying will he?

Vanessa Vine destroyed him truly.

Peter Lilley, Tory twat,

And Tory twats abound like gnats,

Heads shoved so far up their ass,

Long beyond rectum, through ileum they pass.

And ill we feel, we stand aghast,

As morons weave their climate wrath,

And drilling through, spilling out, natural gas;

The fires burn, the methane blasts.

The waters churn with toxic slurry,

The babes will burn, the mothers worry.

Acrylamide - washed out in a flurry,

Glutaraldehyde, kills owt in a hurry.

The world spins round but boils over,

The kettle sounds, the lads are sober,

The drunk ones clad in blue, who rober,

Rob us all, while their chimneys smoulder.

The plighted

While it remains the case that apathy outweighs sympathy,
The plighted will never find peace.