Against Labeling

Here's a poem I wrote about it! Also, no matter what pseudo-scientific rubbish you type, I literally will not care. If you have something legitimate, however, please do comment! (Teo is the beginning of the genus for corn, by the way. Also, "women in white" stands for scientists, because guess what?--women are terribly underrepresented in science, so I figured I'd leave men out for a change.)   

Here in these rows,

A peculiar plant grows,

Not from one, but two,

Its creation is new.

Spawned from lab,

From women in white,

Growing like all other with light.

It came from teo,

And Leo and more,

It feeds the world,

Yet people deplore,

It’s birth from science’s light,

Methinks they ain’t so bright

After all the millions it feeds,

Are the ones with basic needs.

But I s’pose my posture ain’t true,

Because obviously Monsanto I blew.

Though I disagree with vultures-business,

I must be the conspirator’s mistress.

Even if GMO is a phrase for show,

If it’s GMO they want to know.

Labeling will reduce the little guy’s dough,

Everyone knows people outside the hive are a shmo.

Even if nature produces more mutation,

That fact is but a permutation,

In the narrative of big organic.

Formed from legitimate concern,

It would destroy CERN,

If thought it might burn.

But it is they who burn,

Through fields of rice—

Quoting it isn’t nice,

Hunger is its price,

Greenpeace don’t mind.

From this we find

A new evil,

One powered by drivel.

A battle fought with fear,

To never disclose strife that’s near.

Constant nipping the heels of the light,

The science foes envelop us in the night.

Shrouded by the sounds of panic,

Pitchforks at the gates of a ramen tower,

Antivaccinators and salesmen grow in power,

Consuming the rabble at the coffee tower,

The cry of slime and grime grows louder.

What have we done?

To become what we've become?

Did our communicator die too soon?

A silent age never for science to bloom?

The fear is all too true,

Apprehension of what’s next:

Earth is square and flat, too,

The sky is declared not blue.

Only a hot day will produce dew,

And creationist textbooks looked through.

The night isn’t dark a full moon isn’t bright—

Eating special silver is quite all right.

The key to health is bleach stew,

And needles don’t abet the flu.

That is the future we see with our mind,

Life-saving teo we cannot find,

on hill nor field.

I will not yield.

Truth will rise, arise,

And lift yourself from your disguise.

Greed is your ultimate game,

When you give teo a bad name.

Buy the farms from the ones who give life,

After running them aground,

Who cares of the future strife?

Everyone can pay the price.

No, we will continue to splice,

Genes to prevent famine.

We will not yield

Our fields of golden grains,

Nor our thinking brains.

We vote no to label,

We’re not going to be another state

Written into the anti-science play-bill. 

(Look stuff up if you need to get these kind of obscure references. Trust me, it's worth it.)