No exit

Back when I was young I didn’t fear:

I knew the world could solve this situation.

We understood the cause, so the way out was clear:

a comprehensive pact between all nations 

to stop emitting CO2 

into the atmosphere.


Back then there seemed no need to march and shout,

to sit down in the road and press for truth.

We could not conceive of a climate up the spout.

In the sweet credulity of youth

we just assumed the world’s great minds 

would sort the problem out.


But now we’ve no more pretext to pretend.

There’s fires all round the globe, there’s floods and panic.

No answer from my leaders nor my friends

to “How do we escape a burning planet?”

There’s no push-bar to open, there’s 

no ladder to extend.


There’s no exit, no safe route any more.

There’s no exit, there’s padlocks on the doors.

We can piss on the flames as they shoot up through the floor

but we can’t complain of a horror everyone foresaw.

There’s no exit, no choice but to endure.



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