Silence

Silence together, something unnamed

something shared

Silence together, a distance undisturbed

or not tested

If we were able to hear every thought

What cacophony would we witness?

What disturbed and worried

flutters of thought

Too full

The call is too full

It fills up instantly

Everywhere is promising 

Backwards

                 Forwards

and Now

Brimming with yes

Body a quiet

                     trembling

Relief

         Ease

                  Rest

To The Echelons Of Power

To the echelons of power, wherever you are
It is not too late to turn, please
play a different role
Another world is waiting to manifest

Wont you pacify the grotesque hubris which has you
funding private escape pods
destined for far off planets
What do you have to offer the mystery of space?
Except a profound disconnection with your origin and kin
The unfolding caverns of majesty require an imagination
one that goes beyond your sterile lunges for survival
You vampires of the common wealth
Do not build bunkers out of fear and petrol
Give to regeneration
Stop casting the most vulnerable as fodder
May the word collateral choke in your throats

What remains still extends grace towards you
Still the trees suffocated by indifference give oxygen
and the blessing of a raindrop on your skin is a whisper
Do not only hear a warning of scarcity and acid
In that whisper hear hope too
and turn
Join in and work for regeneration  

Victims of Power

https://tompburgess.blogspot.com/2019/05/to-echelons-of-power.html

By Tom Burgess and Oliver Bancroft 

Norwegian Voices

http://beacon.by/tom-burgess/norwegian-voices

A writing collaboration and adventure by Harry Swordy and Tom Burgess

Restless

When we came to allocate the fields
Only those trees that fitted into our small horizons stayed
The survivors became natures arbiters
Straddling the newly pastoral and a mythic world now gone
Traces left in gnarled bark and the whisper of leaves
Their lives prolonged by pollarding hand after hand after hand
Somewhere down the line hands were washed
Our connection further strained
Hedgerows no longer tended did not stay tame
Giving themselves in decay to the earth

Making fertile the soil, ground primed

the veterans remain

As wildness begins to reign we concrete over

Then desire a lawn
So buy fertiliser
Ship nourishment in from Russia, the US or Israel
Ever shaping the land
Restlessness the only story