Land by Joel Schueler

Come wattle the land
Greenest grass that you can
You shall hear now how I pine for naturalism

A sun-learned land
And hard-of-hearing sand
Hark, see there that growing flock of waves

O’er the mushroomscape
Those cumulations from magnetised moon.
I don’t say it believing it

But by saying it, it gives me hope
That her land will be mine, not only, but mine, only not.
For the ones for whom I thirst

Thrive in the picnic-quiet
Of refrigerated lands. Obstreperous lands. The goose on the outpost
Needn’t keep watch when life is pillowed by creature comforts.

Oh you idyllic fuck
aestheticising moderne cornucopias for the timorous at heart.

Thank you, Joel for submitting your work. Support Joel on Instagram

Check Joel’s work below

Jim & Martha: A Novel on Eco Living 

The number one national bestseller: 

Love Your Fear: A Quick Self-Help Guide to Managing Anxiety 

Joel Schueler’s work appears in over ten countries in over fifty publications including Pennsylvania Literary Journal, London Poetry Magazine & The Brasilia Review. From London, he has a BA(Hons) in English Literature & Creative Writing from the University of Wales, Aberystwyth. 

Photo by Kurt Cotoaga on Unsplash

Photo by Silas Baisch on Unsplash

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