Of Soul and Soil

The atmosphere can carry
What the Earth cannot contain,
But it’s not an empty vessel
‘Till we’re wringing every grain,

Slice it up in portions,
Give the biggest share away,
‘Till it’s festered with investors,
But it’s really us who pay,

And it’s really good for figures
If we’re digging it with diggers,
Takes many sticks of dynamite
To demonstrate it’s finite,
Much skyward riding on the boom
Can obfuscate that this is doom,

‘Till earthward worms are knitting veins,
Tunneling between the grains,
Their nourishment from where we rest,
So gravely of our lives divest,

Of soul and soil and spit and blood,
The market conjured fire and flood,
Moved by an invisible hand
‘Till all was covered up with sand,
From boom to bust, from dust to dust,
A buck away from saving us,

When every drop of poison
Has been wrung from every grain,
The atmosphere will carry
What the Earth cannot contain.

Trevor Nielsen is currently working as a full time carer. He is an occasional musician and committed Anarchist. Read other articles by Trevor.