The rebellions

Humanity is rebelling

It burns tearful memories

Agency is now only power

Voice and identity suffocated

Agency cannot abide truth

It burns all resonance

The innocent and the passive

It rewards the privileged

It values vanity

Yeats’ centre has not held

It has burned the leaves

Now it faces the single root

All human existence

The silence of truth

That agency is vanity

Soil is our destiny

Light is our messenger

It has never been otherwise

Microbes accept us

Into the microcosm

They bathed us

They gave us oxygen

We mutated freely

We were and we are

No longer what were

Humanity is not science

It is a construct

An artifice expressing

The will of our system

What we want is ‘heaven’

We are not there

We have mislead ourselves

We do not know all

We must learn what

Is missing in our

Vainglorious folklore

The missing energy

The burned homes

The poisoned water

The impoverishment of the needy

The gruelling lies of privilege

Phoney pretentious argument

To achieve pompous status

The appropriation of governance

By credulous narratives

We do not love

We consume

We no longer value love

To love and be loved

The murderer is the liberator

The struggle is criminalised

The only path is rebellion