Inner Vocal Quiver Part 2

by MyNAh_27

As if a child should understand an adult’s muddle,
putrid oil slick puddle.
The dreadful pain we foist on wide-eyed offspring.
Robotic elders crush with rigid slabs of portland censure whatever spark is left in rosebud cheeks before their prime.
Those innocents should never have to wrap their nascent minds around the wanton desecration of the intertidal Lakelands wetness gradients,
the callous douse of velvet
purple Algerita berries,
blighted by the dark timbre cloud forms that pour bile on every genus.
These rug rats at our feet may never know the joys of sap-addicted sugar gliding nocturnal possums,
whose acrobatic mirror ball tree to tree exploits mock the very essence of each Isaac Newton principle,
or the kinkajou of tail grip fame with tan glow woolly fur coat brazenly awash at every noonday haze,
or indeed the dawn to dusk fennec fox on edge,
that doughty eagle owl and jackal dodger whose kissing cousin dens pockmark terracotta forests.
But not alone in eco-worlds are children being deprived.
A heartless milieu sentences our clutch and clan to alloy girder mousetraps,
those rat infested pale decor tumble downs gouged out by scrimp and scrape rust bucket caterpillars.
Beyond belief we tolerate the hi-tech kidnap elevator,
that pressure cooker transit flight abduction of the harried wage slave parent,
our cotton garment dress code senseless dragon fly stand-ins who hover in mid air.
There’s every chance we’ll leave our nursling ire to future bands of mutant stem cell rockers,
whose brief it is to sculpture rimshots meshed in suckling rhymes,
when validating rawhide rattle chainsaw fretboard anthems at crowd mosher mud fests,
where rivers of apocalyptic vision burst the bank.
But if only grown ups listened to that inner vocal quiver that we may not yet have cast into plastic resin folly for the generations weaned in toxic smoke rooms,
we’d pollinate a luscious fairground acorn dotted garden with childhood zest its one and only buzzword.
A sweet treat gift with natural flavour pending,
eternal life for baby planet daisy chains of tender petal linkage who’d finally experience pure clutter free environments that value new born thirst for pristine realms.