‘Read poetry,’ he wrote: ‘poetry makes men better.’ How often, in my later life, I realized the truth of this remark of his! Read poetry: it makes men better.”
― Peter Kropotkin, Memoirs of a Revolutionist 

 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

 

We own nothing

We are merely stewards 

Passing on, occasionally adding to,

But I don’t think mother Earth

Would think much of that

Plastic fantastic mess we make.

At best we’re renters

For a wee while

We pay a daily subscription. 

We take nothing with us.

Not even ourselves.

Ashes to ashes

Dust to dust

And this whole fucking

Cornucopia of law

Protecting private property

Keep off the grass

Trespassers will not pass

Makes me laugh 

How deluded are we?