The chickens of global warming have finally come home to roost,
And folks in the US are getting well goosed.
With the heat-waves and draught, and the cost of our vegies,
You’d think Mother Nature was giving us wedgies.
No doubt the Kentucky Fried Devil will soon join the fun,
When the broilers line up in the fierce morning sun,
Pre-cooked in the streets at the Devil’s command,
As our earth is turned into a big frying pan.
While the Congress and lobbies are out making merry,
Fact is our future looks pretty damn scary.
Come the end of the day, with these birds of a feather
Still pecking at pork, we’ll all sizzle together.
And now, the land that God graced hangs by one little thread,
The amber waves withered, the fruited plains bled,
The wasteland dustbowls growing daily by day,
With the sun at its height, blazing and ready to slay.
But there’s still one ray of hope – let’s make a swift ban
On petroleum products and raping the land.
Let the meadows go fallow and set the cows free,
Let the chickens go back to roost in the trees.
Let’s get off the grid and collect our rainwater,
To leave something left for our sons and our daughters.
Let’s stop all our species from kicking the buckets
And hang the damn politicians by their chicken McNuggets.
International Vipassana Meditation Center
Colombo, Sri Lanka
To view more poems and musings by Bhikkhu Moneyya, klick here to go to a PDF of my book “The Moneyya Chronicles.” You can also buy my book at https://www.amazon.com/Moneyya-Chronicles-Selected-Poems-Musings/dp/1732287716