The Soil is Sour

The soil is Sour
Invaded primates find playmates on
Divergent hemispheres
The splendor of mass suicides take hold of
Our better judgment

An incapacity to coexist
Baffles the refugees
Makes it impossible to see
The point of rising each morning

We are fatigued
From mourning for strangers
While others pretend no strangers are present

Our DNA collected from islands
Forever under occupation
Keeps us well stocked with misdirected anger

Less is more
Unless
You have more than others
Our neighbors pray to be unreal
Spend more time engaged with screens and gadgetry
Than trying to feel the wind

With a flicker time discards us
Our lesser selves are mailed to
Incinerators lined up beyond the city walls
Cold rocks poke up through sky
Our reservoir is dry

The soil is sour
Our stomachs are sick
We live with a permanent hangover
Our heads pounding
As the coffee is brewing
We hang over the kitchen counter
Trying to piece together
Last evening's series of events

Gamma rays sift through the ceiling
Three decades pass and you
Don't remember one moment of it
The toilet seat is down
Loved ones claim you are color blind
The names of the things begin to sound odd

Your past was troubled but your
Present is dangerously quiet
You want to do more with your fingers
You want to know less

Bronze objects are hung that
Were once tools of survival
Now kitschy artifacts viewed
By paying customers
Who presume they are smarter
Than their predecessors

The soil is sour
Our mother's milk spoiled
We are reduced to the
Plastic and fiber that binds us