Uppercase Hyperbole Poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell

Sound the alarm! It's time to panic!
Unhinge the senses and send a text.
Tweeter on Twitter, full-blown manic,
and set a fire for the doubly-vexed.

Apocalyptic conversations
are full of nothing, empty and vague.
Upend the world and all its nations.
Quick! It is coming, another plague!

An existential threat is at hand.
We must scream a little bit louder;
for, if we shout, they will understand.
Words are to wounds as guns to powder.

I don't care to hear the other side.
They are idiots in denial.
Carbon emissions are amplified,
and we must ramp up the damn dial.

This is the paradox of our time:
the louder we shout, the less we hear.
The more we distort, the less we prime
the will of a once listening ear.

The more we hype the truth, as we know,
the less likely we are bound to bend.
This partisan scourge, a body blow,
must come to naught for our own good end.

All good men must sit at the table.
Good women must participate too.
Be respectful, mindful, and able
to listen to those in front of you.

We can have the most beautiful world,
the most beautiful world ever seen,
a heaven-on-earth world, a dreamworld,
absolution in gardens of green.