A Poem by Gertrude Wong
The trees were wrapped in vines and monkeys,
fruit hung heavy from the branches as if heat could be water,
and there was water, a lot of water, water everywhere,
waterfalls and cascades and deep thriving rivers.
Monsanto came with diseases–horrors–evils–
diseases of greed and money grubbing and everything terrible–
and the jungle changed and the jungle died
and the people of the jungle changed, too,
and nothing was ever the same again.
Do you not think the Black Plague cannot touch us again?
Do you not think Ebola Hemorrhagic Fever can not still reach out?
Do you not think GMO’s creating a resistance in corn
do not change us who eat it (Remember always Agent Orange)–
our resistance is growing weaker and weaker and we tumble downwards,
down onto the paths of least resistance until we lack resistance.
Let the next great plague hit us and it will.
What will stop it from passing through us?
Monsanto’s greed? Monsanto’s evil? Monsanto’s disease?
Monsters destroyed our jungles, our photosynthesis engines,
our water, our soil, our genetic building blocks
and these are the Monsantos, the Dow Chemicals, out there,
killing us slowly…killing us…killing…
A Poem by M. Lapin
The spawning of disease and contempt,
the stretching of skin, the knotting of bone.
Monsanto translated from Devil:
“a sloppiness of evil, a great roar of pain,
the beginnings of the end of food chains”
and Dow the Devil word ”I hate”
designed in a hell even Dante did not know.
A Poem by Ross Vassilev
the souls of dead soldiers
come back as crows
sitting in the naked branches
the last moments of winter’s sunset
they seem confused
as though wondering what they really died for
(their country? religion? Dow Chemical?)
perhaps they remember
the bodies of the dead
men women children alike
splayed out in the grass
of so many foreign lands
far too many bodies for counting
haunting this earth
Music Video by Taína Asili
A Poem by A.G. Synclair
And he would often ramble on
about those grinning Cheshire cats
back slapping and palm pressing
natty, chatty, laugh a minute bedbugs
bleating broken tomes of conformity
laughing in Uncle Danny’s face
when he begged for a fresh air mask
when he lost days
and thirty-two dollars an hour
to violent lung spasms
and relentless vomiting.
Year after year
bloated pig bitch talk
squealing porcine leprous swine
massive circle jerk
step into my orifice
working class zero.