Friday, April 3, 2020

Channeling Mom Nature

First of all, Mr. Paust, let us establish
some ground rules--actually only one, unless
you have a suggestion, and are
feeling exceptionally brave…

No? Good. Then here is mine: do NOT call me Mom!
Perhaps in softer times I could let that familiarity
slide by, as I am not always the harridan I realize
I’m sounding like today. It’s just that, as you might

have guessed, I AM PISSSED! (What? Three esses
and an exclamation point? Have I shaken you
that much? Wait! I see your cursor moving up to
the title. Leave it alone! Leave it for wimpy readers

whom Mother intimidates, thinking probably of
The Manchurian Candidate and one of my favorite
actors, Angela, which I—oh, for the love of...never mind.
Close the damned parentheses already!) Thank you. See?

I can be polite. Unlike the bulk of you ungrateful
FRAGILE PLANET!! That’s better, but the redundant
emphasis, the two...oh, why did I ever summon you

for this? Man up! Just listen, hear? Listen, and take down
every word without trying to interpret! You don’t want me
to lose my patience! You know what I can do! The dinosaurs?
Got too big for their own good, ravaging Earth with their

monstrous appetites. Always eating eating eating. Everything
that grew. And bullied and ate and scared the bejeebies
out of each other and all my other creatures trying to evolve
into what I’d hoped would become a spiritually oriented

hybrid that would truly appreciate me and all of my babies
and take care of them for me, sort of be my surrogate,
learn to read and write and sing and play the trombone
and memorize poetry and…a-and love (put that in upper

case)...LOVE one another and be good stewards and
not be agents of extinction and—remember squab?--
but NOOOOO, you have to turn into selfish, greedy…
(I almost said animals) cowardly...oh, use your imagination).

and here's a tip for those of you who have read this far,
and who want to survive my latest challenge--you do
don't you?


– Mother

                                                                                                                     m.d. paust

[This poem was inspired by a post on my friend Neeru's blog, A Hot Cup of Pleasure.]


  1. Wow Mathew! So enjoyable but also so hard-hitting.

    Don't think Mother Nature would like me since I tend to put double emphasis a lot (as also redundant question marks:)

    And thanks for the link to the post.

  2. Mathew, I wash my hands so much that they are dry and sore. And still it probably isn't enough. I have been avoiding apocalyptic books recently but maybe reading one would be useful.

    1. Last week I downloaded (uploded?) two plague books from Kindle, Tracy--The Plague, by Camus, and A Journal of the Plague Year, by Defoe. I haven't the heart to read either one, and may never get around to them.