We know not to do it: judging a book By how attractive its cover might look.
The meek will inherit the Earth. Perhaps But only after all those other chaps Are done with their fun There's work to be done We'll clear up the mess after the collapse
I'll not delete your name. Not yet. I want to remember you. Not forget.
It's time for us to change this world. It's time we all were trying. For I'd rather see kids protesting Than watch them slowly dying.
It's possible every thing that we do That isn't addressing this burning issue Is utterly pointless, a total waste, Hurtling end-ward with ever more haste. This is a poem that no-one could love. It is what it is. And push came to shove.