textsfromsolarpunk

Even time among thy friends,
And all imagination lends,
Is stripped and then sold back t'thee
Repackaged boosting 'G. D. P.'

All that's common, all thy gifts
Devoured so "Gross Production" lifts --
All to savage ritual thrown
Paying back an endless loan.

For every man who took his part
In this slaughter's gruesome art --
From their lips my little birds
Heard these softly whispered words
Echo hollow in the soul:
"This is out of my control"

Morgan Trowland, The Mask of Night

From prison for climate protest.