It seems to be Earth Day in Yahoo today (6 months early)

Mud

Who makes a meal out of mud
who vests in soils and sand?
When did carbon replace blood
and dirt get measured by the hand?

All things being equal
Earth would be a better place;
but what is high is tall
and what is low debased.

It's all mud -- you, me, Zuckerberg!
We're all on a one way trip
so save a gosh-darned iceberg
I won't give you much lip.

S’macintiosh

Words that are the pear-fruit of my mind
The zest of fickle trickledown
churning in the belly vocabulary
usurps the usual sensible vegetables
seeking freaky twerking of verbiage.
Neologism -- a shiny apple, hovers;
I pick one and go on for a bite.

A prayer to the thinking man's God

We, who know our insignificance, call out to You  
Though too small to see even the decimal point above us, we shout with longing into the night.  Though too faint to even hear an echo, we are sure that our message gets through.

We, who know our significance, call out to You 

Like a dog who sits loyal at the foot of the bed, we share in the great godly gift of observing. To see the world around us is, in some small way, to be one with God.  YOU see the world with an all-loving all-knowing eye, while we watch the world with a glance of the more educational variety.  Teach us how to see. Make us worthy of consciousness.

We, still searching for our place, call out to You

Our future, dark and puzzling to us, is laid out clearly by you. You are our rudder and our star. But we can only right ourselves with you here and now, by offering you our pains to see. You know them already, and in seeing them you challenge us, but we can only change when we remember that you are seeing – and when we see you in all things.

We, who know our place, call out to You

Let our prayer be a healing fire that burns away all barriers between us and Your Will. With our hearts, minds and spirits we pray to know your path for us and what use our small gifts can be in the vast world that is our connection to you. We serve others in the hope that it will bring us ever closer to understanding you. And we pray to remind ourselves of our significance, our insignificance, our search for and our place in
Your Will.

Amen
 

Poem for a Friend who needs a Critique

A poem about being a troubled kid,

Voiced by a vain and confused young man

Some gibberish nightmare garbled and hid

Buried in Mickey Mouse dreams and flim-flam.

Obsessed with medievals  he cannot sort 

Throwing on words for the rhyme each earns

Using ideas as a Malaprop's tort

Phrased vaguely, tangled and bald by turns.

I feel there's a message here wanting the stage, 

But the poet is afraid to hear his own voice

To withhold may be wise, to reveal may be brave

But halfies and halfies is never a choice.

Write something else or give all that you've got 

All you get is crap by sitting on the pot.

I put the Mirror Poem that goes with this in Rants because it is a bit harsh