The Fruit Is Silent

A spot of wiggling green upon a bosom of luscious red

Life gnawing upon life

In the hillock sprayed with chemical.

Worms eating their way into the kernel of life

Isn’t that how everyone writes?

As if the worm’s the harbinger of death

And the toxic spray the champion.

Masked assailants have swerved their pipes

Stifling the life in the supple fruit

And the insect.

The soil is now soaked in the residue of death
And there's a pool of dead bees swimming in the soil
"This time the spray got to them quick" the urchin sighed.

The fruit is silent,

The worm is wringing in pain

And so is our intestines;

Death having percolated 

Through the soil to the water tables 

And from the water tables to dinner tables.

 The masked assailant drops down his gear

 His temples throbbing

 He's not been spared by his own weeds

 Stuff he thought would sustain his family

 Is slowly seeping into his own sustenance.

The vermin that's making it's way through our lives

 And slowly killing us

 Is the very vermin killer.

.