Poems About the Environment

Tired

I’m tired Tired of being told women are placed upon a Pedestal.

I write to be heardrather than to be absurd, I'm a poet, I'm not a bird chirping and tweeting constantly

Chemistry makes my brain cells popNot knowing is what makes me rock.

Internet runs faster than I do. Phones know more than I do. Breathing in wi-fi instead of air.

The cold Winter night

The atoms of imperfections fog the mirror these two eyes stare into They search for meaning in the midst of it all

Smooth orange liquid sunshine mixes with the salty turquise breeze An esoteric halocline of incarnate earth-breath

Dreams

I would go out on the corners Handing dollars to the needy I would give them so much food

The road almost meets the skyas I drive my tiny green caracross the bridge.

As I sit in my darken room, looking up at a familiar shade of grey above,

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