ya snooze ya lose
where your attention goes is what you choose
don’t just react to the news
respond with the grace of a frond
calm like a pond
your word is your bond
unless your pants on fire
and some days a rant is a dire necessity
you have to hire a verbal accessory
to speak truth to the crimes of the tongue
flung across the airwaves, printwaves,
ocean waves, crimes of the tongue
like a DC madam going down on them fellows
in boardroom bordellos but what’s missing
from the paid for kissing
is the mother tongue the language
that’s spoke from the heart
the lingo that’s woke from the start of creation
before the lines in the soil claimed nations
with tolls and tariffs and polling stations,
the crimes of the tongue are tasteless and forked
spewing jargon at bargain basement prices
the law of the land-grab is what entices,
what slices and dices for chaos and crisis
instead of “this is enough”
what you already have suffices,
so return to the churn of the Mother’s voices
the sounds of the oceans
kissing and slapping the shore
what goes around comes around
so no need to ask for more
unless they’ve penned you far from the store,
true cycles pre-programmed with ancient longevity
making a mockery of anthropocentric frantic brevity,
saliva so sacred coating the tongue
greasing the wheel from where the words are sung
out of the mouth and into the atmosphere
watch what you say or it’ll blow back at ya
who’s now in front will one day be rear
and the sounds of the waters of this spinning sphere
we must hold dear
make them clear, again,
though the crimes of the tongue say the end is near
there’s a whisper of a breeze saying “do not fear”
and an ocean spraying its misty cheer—
if this ain’t clear then nothing else to say
except remember that feeling with the first light of day