Exiting the bus I arrive at the beach on the one day I knew nobody would be there.
It was a cold esoteric day with grey crumbly sky harkened to a wrinkled shirts many valleys.
It was also the middle of winter
After New Years,
And before valentines day.
I came to this desolate wasteland of plastic and grit, for a moment alone to contemplate a planet full of shit.
And maybe for a smoke,
The smell of dead fish,
It was a smell gross, like your favorite diner had lost power and all the fish had gone bad then they refroze them anyway.
The wind blew slowly and heavily that day, like a Birthday when the recipient is to old and has run out of breath but keeps trying to extinguish the last candles brightly burning flame.
So my thoughts now compound:
Why can’t we make this world better?
Just a standard of living?
Or at least less marketing!
I mean the marketing has moved from you will be the best if you had this product to, if you don’t buy this crap now you will be tortured with guilt, the person you hate the most will be elected and you will pull your toe nails out just to forget they are out of stock of the item you should of bought. The retched way we are treated by society is worse than any filth covered, disease ridden pig who was led to slaughter. At least after the pig was dead it was cooked delicately and smothered with butter.
And a flower.
I didn’t want to give up on the planet, but I knew it would get better if we left it alone for even just an hour. The oceans would stir just a little more. Our cavalcade of plastic and poop would pause, giving it a much needed breather.
If you don’t understand what I mean take a trip down to your city dump and find the tallest mountain of trash and jump in it.
Try to breathe,
Try to see the sky,
Look at the ocean coming up to your thigh,
And ocean made from purely discarded waste. Coffee grounds, mud and spit back juice bottles and those are just the nicest ones I can mention.
It wasn’t that I had given up on people just that I knew their flaw, they practiced greed, narcissism, and gluttony in place of compassion, community and charity.
But genocide wasn’t needed because It was only one percent that kept this crazy system in place.
But you can’t beat them,
Because you’ll become them,
And nothing will change in the end.
The rain finally started it was light but numerous. Have you ever seen the rain hit the ocean? It has this insignificant feel, like a needle in a haystack. The ocean is a puddle so big it wouldn’t even flinch swallowing me. But that was what this thought was about: how to get a bunch of apathetic barely being able to survive people to participate in over throwing their only form of safety. Even if that was living under a bridge.
Eating from the trash,
A hole in your shoe,
Begging for change.
The masses would cling to anything that threw them a cent. Even though money is meaningless.
You can grow your food,
You can build your house.
But the sun has set and the answers have not come. Is this why people resort to the wrong answer or stick with the status quo? Wouldn’t it be easier just to keep working at it and admit you don’t have the right answer yet. Instead of enacting one the causes pain for some? Hopefully tomorrow will bring clarity. I may sleep on the beach, maybe I will get swept away to a island where people have a caring community.