How are you doing?

Alright. It's very good to be here.

Make some noise if you love oxygen,
ladies and gentlemen.

(Cheers)

Yes.

Somebody in here likes
to breathe, so do I.

It's like a compulsive habit,
I do it everyday.

Personally, I believe that a poet
should have a sense of beauty

like a comedian has a sense of humor.

Sense meaning the faculty to detect.

And I can't think of anything
more beautiful than the source of beauty,

and that is this planet that we live in.

Give it up for the biggest rock star
on Earth, the Earth herself. Thank you.

(Applause)

The ancient people referred
to nature as Gaiah.

And so I wrote a poem to Her
like I would write a poem to my woman.

I love her so much.

(Laughter)

This poem is called 'Garden of the Gaiah'.

There is a car that runs off of air,

- true story -

it weighs less than 1,000 pounds,

and its only emission is cleaner air.

I drive a frickin' used Buick LeSabre.

It was more handsome

than the more 'fuel-efficient' car
that I could have bought,

but its paint job had this feature
that deflected women away.

I made a choice.

Like many, I wished 
in my will to do good,

or at least, half the size
of my carbon footprint.

It's like this big massive boot
size 7 billion and counting,

with enough weight that can stamp out
creatures bigger than we are.

We turn the rubber and the soles
into erasers for names like

Balaena mysticetus - the bowhead whale,

Panthera Leo persica - the Asiatic lion,

Pongo pygmaeus morio -
the golden orangutan.

How could we be so certain these
are not sentient, intelligent beings,

when 300 years ago, if you wanted
to hear me read a poem,

they'd have made me do it
from the inside of a cage?

My, how times have changed!

The culture, not as drastic.

It is not surprising that the same mind
that invented chain smoking

is now burning down the rainforest.

That's a cliche part,

but if for every time you put down a pack,
another acre grew back,

would it be enough to make you quit?

That there, is the growing pain.

They don't make nicotine patches
for a logging addiction

so the environment ends up
getting it worse than the rubber tree

that gave its life to make
the latex in your condoms.

And we don't touch the Earth anymore.

When's the last time the dirt underneath
your fingernails was actually soil?

When I was little, I had a garden,
and my parents forced me to see

that loving the planet is a lot easier
when it's not something

that you are afraid to actually
put your hands inside of.

For every surface in this world,
there was a creature created to love it,

and of all these tiny creatures,
my favorite were the bees.

You see, to a bee, a garden's a city
where the skyscrapers grow out the ground,

and every level is
an all-you-can-eat food court.

With wings like jetpacks,
in the absence of elevators,

but when they puke,

it's something you'd actually want
to put on your Cheerios.

(Laughter)

Who's the superior species?

Let's see them try their hand
at Guitar Hero.

But the most beautiful part
of a bee is its stinger

because it only gives it one shot
to harm another being,

and at that point,
it must sacrifice its life.

Would you sacrifice yourself
to protect the same pine tree

that died to make the deck of your patio?

At least when you shelter a tree,
you get to stay alive.

What could we learn
if we allowed them to breathe?

Because one day, I want
to write poetry as perfect as the way

that God writes water
into the veins of a leaf.

Last October, I saw a maple
that autumn turned so red

it looked like a sculpture
of a frozen flame.

So I stared at it so hard
that its bark grew from my pores

and this tree is what I became.

I was only gone for a second,
but I came back with a message:

trees speak with their roots,
and what they had to tell us

is that we are all tiny creatures
in the Garden of the Gaiah.

Our cities are stone sculptures
that hold the heavens up

when the mountains
would no longer suffice.

We are one consciousness shift away

from turning this Earth
into a technological Eden,

where the air car that I want
doesn't float above my pay grade.

So you want to save this planet?

Start by appreciating what's left of it.

Just know that the grass always knew
that you were a Guitar Hero

because since you were a child, it's been
letting you crowd-surf on its hands

as you looked up to the sky
and began to understand

that you are just a tiny creature
who would cease to exist

if this garden ever ceased to keep giving.

Thank you.

(Applause)