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A Room of My Own
The color of sky blue
A place where
The world had no key
A theater where
I sang and danced
A secret studio where
I sketched for years
A refuge for a refugee
When I was twelve
My room was a church where
I prayed for freedom
Litany for Change
for Barack
Change the Pacific Ocean Trash Gyre
A swirling mass of pestilence vomiting plastic demons
Devouring the innocents of the sea
Change the melting mountains of ice
The thinning rug beneath the Polar Bears’ feet
Change their early eclipse from this world
Change the wars in the Middle East
Wiping-out the children in the streets
Dressed in grey rags playing with dirt and sticks and with pebbles
Change the insatiable hunger of the rich
For diamonds and dollar bills and oil to eat and to drink
Their self-indulging time bomb for us all
Change the extinction of the bats and the bees
The little hard working creatures
Who never asked us for anything in life
Change their early downfall from this planet
Change our lust for ignorance and for more and more things
Our hypnotic affair with guns and ammunitions
With violence on the air and violence in our dreams
Change the foolhardiness with which we treat the earth
The yanking out of forests by the acres
Without knowing the lives there with no care for the souls there
Change our narcissism over miniscule acts of how far we’ve come
Our bizarre decrees of dominion over earth and sky and sea
Change the minds and hearts of men
Their rotted country sides and blackened water ways
Their tainted winds and distempered cities
Let them be filled with color, with youth and vibrant again
Let them be lucid and living and loving again
No Where
Is there any place left to go
When smells of a Third World War
Loom thick in the air
When birds abandon
The clammy gray city
Sunken in muddied snow
Is there such a place
Where commodity is dead
Where humans are devoid
Of hatred
Of arrogance
Of self-praise
Is there such a paradise left
The color of sky blue
A place where
The world had no key
A theater where
I sang and danced
A secret studio where
I sketched for years
A refuge for a refugee
When I was twelve
My room was a church where
I prayed for freedom
Litany for Change
for Barack
Change the Pacific Ocean Trash Gyre
A swirling mass of pestilence vomiting plastic demons
Devouring the innocents of the sea
Change the melting mountains of ice
The thinning rug beneath the Polar Bears’ feet
Change their early eclipse from this world
Change the wars in the Middle East
Wiping-out the children in the streets
Dressed in grey rags playing with dirt and sticks and with pebbles
Change the insatiable hunger of the rich
For diamonds and dollar bills and oil to eat and to drink
Their self-indulging time bomb for us all
Change the extinction of the bats and the bees
The little hard working creatures
Who never asked us for anything in life
Change their early downfall from this planet
Change our lust for ignorance and for more and more things
Our hypnotic affair with guns and ammunitions
With violence on the air and violence in our dreams
Change the foolhardiness with which we treat the earth
The yanking out of forests by the acres
Without knowing the lives there with no care for the souls there
Change our narcissism over miniscule acts of how far we’ve come
Our bizarre decrees of dominion over earth and sky and sea
Change the minds and hearts of men
Their rotted country sides and blackened water ways
Their tainted winds and distempered cities
Let them be filled with color, with youth and vibrant again
Let them be lucid and living and loving again
No Where
Is there any place left to go
When smells of a Third World War
Loom thick in the air
When birds abandon
The clammy gray city
Sunken in muddied snow
Is there such a place
Where commodity is dead
Where humans are devoid
Of hatred
Of arrogance
Of self-praise
Is there such a paradise left
