ANTIDOTE TO BAD NEWS
The warnings come at me from all directions
nature shows on television, newspapers,
even lectures by experts in their field.
Some guy pops up on my screen
in khaki shirt and shorts, tells me
it's not the Huskies, Al-Qaeda
or stray meteorites we have to fear -
it's ourselves.
We're devouring this planet at
a much faster rate that it can
possibly replenish itself.
We're heating up the planet
so dramatically
it's like we've popped our world
onto the plates of a stove
and are turning up the knobs
to bake and broil.
And we can't knock down trees,
dram wetlands fast enough
to build houses for our
ever-increasing population.
And there's fear for survival
of God's other creatures of course.
Extinctions are an almost daily occurrence,
says some biologist
with a leaden lower lip.
And every elimination of a species, he adds,
edges closer to our own.
Thankfully, some smiling pundit
reaps all the specialists, the professionals,
off the stage as if he's
wielding an invisible shepherd's crook.
His spiel is a comforting variation on,
“What do they know"
or "Don't worry, be happy."
He's a ratings grabber.
Our flat earth loves the man.
The warnings come at me from all directions
nature shows on television, newspapers,
even lectures by experts in their field.
Some guy pops up on my screen
in khaki shirt and shorts, tells me
it's not the Huskies, Al-Qaeda
or stray meteorites we have to fear -
it's ourselves.
We're devouring this planet at
a much faster rate that it can
possibly replenish itself.
We're heating up the planet
so dramatically
it's like we've popped our world
onto the plates of a stove
and are turning up the knobs
to bake and broil.
And we can't knock down trees,
dram wetlands fast enough
to build houses for our
ever-increasing population.
And there's fear for survival
of God's other creatures of course.
Extinctions are an almost daily occurrence,
says some biologist
with a leaden lower lip.
And every elimination of a species, he adds,
edges closer to our own.
Thankfully, some smiling pundit
reaps all the specialists, the professionals,
off the stage as if he's
wielding an invisible shepherd's crook.
His spiel is a comforting variation on,
“What do they know"
or "Don't worry, be happy."
He's a ratings grabber.
Our flat earth loves the man.
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