Poetry – Living in a fulcrum.

Living in a fulcrum.

It feels like the world is turning.

We’ve reached the tipping point

We are being pulled in different ways.

The universe is out of joint.

On one side the Trumpists and deniers

Telling us it isn’t so.

On the other there’s Extinction Rebellion

Pointing the way to go.

We’re being fed the propaganda

From the Brietbart prophet.

Whose only god is power

And whose sacrament is profit.

The politicians are floundering

All they care about is votes.

What happens to the orangutans,

Is measured in bank notes.

Yet the young are rising up

And making their voices heard.

They want a brighter future

And will have the final word.

The world is turning on a fulcrum;

No telling where it will go.

For sanity or complacency?

Only the future knows.

Opher 6.5.2019

I’m listening to the young who have their fingers on the pulse. They are not believing the lies put out by those who are profiting from the destruction of nature.

They know the pesticides are causing mass destruction of all insects from bees to butterflies.

They know our beautiful iconic species – the rhinos, elephants, gorillas, chimps, giraffe, lions, whales and tigers – are being hunted to extinction.

They know our rainforests are being chopped down.

They know our ice-caps are melting.

They know our climate is changing.

They know we are selling the future for today.

They know who is profiting from this wholesale destruction.

They want it stopped.

We are at a tipping point, sitting on our fulcrum. Which way will it go?

Poetry – How many trees?

How many trees?

How many trees does it take

To make a human being?

How many fields to fill our stomachs

So we can go on breathing?

How many creatures lie

Under our tarmac roads?

How many deaths will it take

Before the planet implodes?

Yes – how many trees does it take?

Opher 26.4.2019

There are currently approaching 8 billion of us on this planet and each one of us is busy consuming – consuming land, water, air, finite mineral resources and killing plants and animals. Just by living.

The planet is not infinite. It is a finite web of life – tenuous and fragile.

We are a catastrophe.

Poetry – The destruction of nature

The destruction of nature

Nature on the run

Chemical and gun

Sterilised and sanitised

All creatures despised.

Nature on the run.

Opher 20.3.2019

As we travelled around Morocco I was looking for the wildlife. You would think you’d see a few lizards. I didn’t see much of anything. It seemed devoid of insects too.

In the gardens there were some birds – little oasis of life amid the destruction of nature, but where was the rest of the wildlife?

Poetry – I can hear them

I can hear them

I can hear them

I can feel them.

They speak to me.

With every cyclone,

Every flood,

I feel their anguish.

Not the people.

For they are the focus of attention.

They receive the aid and sympathy.

They look forlorn and hopeless.

They cry openly on camera.

They elicit the response.

The ones I hear and feel

Are the creatures

Swept aside and ignored.



As if they were of no consequence

And did not matter.

Opher 3.4.2019

Every time I see the devastation in the wake of a cyclone or flood, a bushfire or drought, I think of the poor creatures who are caught up in it.

As the poor people are gathered up, fed, sheltered and looked after there is not a single thought for the creatures who were killed, maimed and had their lives destroyed. Nobody seems to care. But I do.

Poetry – Throwaway life

Throwaway life

I look to the clouds to see a bloated vulture

Waiting to feast on this disposable culture.

Cut to the quick with a razor-sharp knife

Another empty moment in a throwaway life.

Busy going nowhere.

Devouring the planet.

Morals of a fungus

Manners of a gannet.

Opher – 9.9.2021

I despair when I look at human beings. We are so greedy for wealth and power we would destroy the future to get more.

It’s a long history of abuse, war, torture, cruelty and destruction.

Are we getting any better?

It seems not.

We are either brainwashed into fanatical religious fantasy or living lives of mindless hedonism.

Where is the intelligence? The appreciation of creativity, wonder and nature?

Why are we either consumed by greed, fanaticism or trivia?

Sometimes I think there’s no hope.

The world is the mess we have made of it.

Intelligent?? I think not!!

Poetry – Telling the Truth

Telling the Truth

The dead don’t talk

But their wounds tell a story.

Animals can’t talk

But their ivory speaks volumes.

Trees can’t talk

Bure bare soil tells the tale.

Humans can talk

But their words are often lies.

Opher 28.10.2018

There’s a disaster going on. It’s all around us. But if you ask about it you’ll only be told untruths.

There’s wanton destruction going on in the name of profit; in the name of progress.

Money never tells the truth.

Poetry – If Only

If Only

If only the dead could talk

They’d tell us who to blame.

They’d point to the abusers

Who play that selfish game.

If only trees could talk

They’d point to the ones who came

To chop and burn and plunder

In a tyranny of shame.

But neither the dead nor the trees

Can change the past

Or create a caring world

That would really last.

That’s down to us.

Opher 28.10.2018

Some people do not care what havoc and misery they leave in their wake – just as long as they are doing alright.

Some people will start wars, destroy countryside, torture and maim – with delight – as long as they are doing OK.

They are a greedy, sick minority.

We need to deal with them.

My walk today – beauty and the trashed verges!!

A walk of up and down!!

First there was the beauty – the wildflowers, the cranesbill, cornflower and wild orchids. The nectar for butterflies and the seeds for birds.

Then there are the fabulous views over the farms, the rolling wolds, out to the sea.

Then there was the devastation. The fucking farmers flattening the whole place, mowing it flat, destroying the flowers, killing the insects and displacing all the wildlife. Leaving behind a desolate wasteland. It make me so angry. There is so little natural habitat to start with – only the hedgerows and verges remain – and they come along and ravage. How are the birds and creatures meant to survive>