love caused global warming

Categorically I will lay my life down for the people I love.

She said that with a spirited grunt that slithered down the spines of everyone in the room.

That’s non-committal she said

No it isn’t he said

Yes

No

Maybe then

Okay

That’s how everything is ending up these days. We argue and then we make up and we achieve nothing. Really, we achieve nothing. Nothing. Do you know how painful it is to achieve nothing? There is this vast void – can you see it? – that opens up when we fight. When we kiss and make up it’s still there; you just can’t escape it. It gets all awkward and hot and stuffy and no one can tell whether this is a lover’s tiff or a permanent strike of lightning that will separate us forever. I don’t know if I want us to separate or not. Maybe it would be better if we did, because then Global warming might stop.

Did you know that Global Warming has nothing to do with pollution? Well, not the pollution you’re thinking of. Global Warming is caused by these little lover’s quarrels. To be honest, I didn’t think that a little void between two inseparables was such a bad thing. Do you think it is? Well you should. The void grows and grows and gets bigger and bigger and soon the words 'grow' and 'big' do not suffice and 'suffice' is irrelevant because nothing suffices. Nothing, nothing can penetrate that void except for the etiolating arms of the lovers themselves. So every time a pair of lovers split at the seams and then try and make up, they send threads of bright furious love, or so it’s called, across the great tear, to try and fix it. But the tear is like shredded metal and you can’t fix metal with love. So the threads have to be really really hot and really really strong. The people who don’t last are the ones whose threads are too weak to bridge the void. The people who do are the ones who, well, who do.

But see here; the people who just rip all these gashes into the material of the universe, and leave them dangling, open and raw, are the ones who set the scene for global warming. They leave their silly little attempts at threading their tear back together hanging in the void, sending out little shivers of warmth that rattle the metal fabric and excite it into some sort of temperature increase, but really give it false hope. If you heat the metal repeatedly, again and again, it loses its strength and eventually it starts to shatter. At first there is just one miniscule crack, but soon that crack sends out runners and the runners send out sprinters and the sprinters break records and every dasher comes tumbling down in a feeble collapse of the frame of one little niche of the world.

Even the lovers contribute to Global Warming. No pair of lovers is without a few tears in the fabric of their relationship: it’s in the laws of love and friendship and marriage and all of that emotional verbiage and pleonasm. They make their little tears and 'fix them real quick.' They fix their 'lil ole tears' with scalding dishes of white hot “make up” sauce. Sauce? Sauce. Gravy maybe. Possibly custard. It all depends on the couple. They fix up their little issues by drowning them in love and make up stuff. They fill the bottomless void. They FILL the BOTTOMLESS VOID. That’s not possible. That’s what you think. It isn’t really possible. It can carry on for a millennia, maybe, potentially, a scrap longer - but what happens when all that burning stuff heats up all the  molecules of the void and melts the void and everything around the void?

It will melt the tear and tear the tear and scare the tear into tearing itself into a bigger tear that will make the fabric of the universe tear up. The universe will heat up. The universe will cry. All this rubbish they teach you about Global Warming and Climate Change is verbiage. Global Warming is caused by love, divorce, love, pain, love, hurt, love, everything else. Love is just this little guy in a big world and yet he can melt the world and divide the world and tear the fabric of the world. The world is green, blue, black – love is red. When the two mix, you get BROWN. Sludge brown. 

Will I still lay down my life for the people I love? Or am I already killing them with my love?

Why Hold Onto The Future?

In 100 year’s time all you’ll be is a photo,

You’re only remains a picture on a wall;

And children will look at you

And say you look like Mum

And say they look like you

Like you do right now.

And your children will tell stories

About when they were young

And they’ll talk about the things you told them

You did when you were young.

And you won’t be forgotten

Because they will remember.

But how about when they’re gone?

How about when no one cares?

Will you have to wait for an inquisitive descendant

To research her family tree

To be recalled to the present?

But really, does it matter?

Why hold on?

I want to, humans need to,

But why hold on?

For My Young Ones II

Brave child, smile and don’t look down,

Life may be cruel, but wear your crown:

God is standing by your side,

God is there throughout the ride.

Strong child, look up and see the sky,

Life may be harsh, but it goes by:

God is here, to hold your hand,

God is behind you so you can stand.

Precious child, see Him, and listen too,

Life may be cold, but you’ll pull through:

God is stronger than all your pain,

God will refresh you, like the rain.

Beloved child, you’ll be okay,

Life is tough, but it’s all God’s way.

You are wonderful, just as you are,

God made you like he made the stars!

So stand up tall, be proud of who you are,

Trust God’s plan and you’ll go far.

What is so wrong with me?

What is so wrong with me

that the fire of change burns and burns

and never ceases, never turns?

What is so wrong with me

that the  stormy seas rage and rage

and never cease, never calm?

What is so wrong with me

that the wretched winds of time

cannot bestow on me a simple second of happiness? 

Is it that the fire enjoys pain?

Does it lap up tears like an angry desert?

Does it dwell in black sorrow and thrive?

Is it that the sea revels in distress?

Does it joy at the screams of broken sailors?

Does it value surrender and weakness?

Or is it that the winds have nothing else to do?

Do they adore the implausible and impossible?

Do they worship unfairness and injustice? 

Who are they: fire, sea, wind?

Nature? Nurture?

Tremulous torture?

Three spirits of havoc;

three demons of despair?

Who am I?

Why do I care?

What is so wrong with me that I cannot be

who I believed I was meant to be?

What is so wrong with me that I seem unable to see

who I believed I was meant to be?

Why? Who? What?

What is so wrong with me?

If I was a dreamer like everyone else

If I was a dreamer like everyone else, would the sun glitter as brightly? or would I be more attracted to the moon?

Do you think I'd say as much as other dreamers tend to do;
or would I keep my mouth shut tight, only smiling to kiss you,
to tell you that I loved you and that the night was black,
or that the stars were headlights and each planet a component of tarmac?

Do dreamers tell their worlds apart,
or is every dream the same,
identical in end and start
and common to the name?
Am I a dreamer like everyone else,
or is my world an apple tree -
one that grows and lives and dies in simple unity?
with what exactly I don't know,
to be sure, neither do you,
but apple trees grow rather well
when you let them do as they will do.
If I was a dreamer like everyone else,
I don't know who I'd be.
But I'm quite content if we exist
with you as you
and me as me.

One Day ~ May 6 2013

One day when the wind blows lonely over the golden grass
and the earth creaks around on its backward axis,
I shall say to you "I love you."
And one day when the silver spirit of the moon has glided away to far off galaxies,
you shall say to me "I love you."

When the sun is faded to a husky brown
and there is no difference between the day and the night.
When the ice won't freeze and the ice won't melt
and everything hangs in the balance of light.
When the sea is neither blue nor green
and eyes have neither watched nor seen,
and dreams have been and gone long ago,
and the world is coated in a dull white snow.
When the air is warm but carries hints of the cold
and no crops will grow for fear of growing old
and laughter and weeping have merged into one;

We shall say to each other,
"What have we done?"

 

What have we left behind?

Can we change what we're going to leave behind?

Love

it's eating away 

at my heart

big and dark and dangerous

it's chewing its way

into my heart

long long slow slow 

crunch

crunch

LOVE

Identical Smiles in my land

The winds of change are moving over the land

And the moon never rises on a similar scene,

Yet the eyes of the present are blind to the past

And the changes blur to a gentle acceleration

Where only separation can force the division

Between then and now,

And why and how.

Only gnarled ghosts remain of the colonialist hand

And the ancient tribes have been machined to dust

Which settles on people and on the land

Blanketing out all the sense and reason that supposedly comes hand in hand with time.

Instead a quiet has descended on rocks and mountains -

They shrink under the burden

Of a forgotten memory.

The braces of time have weighted down the corners of the smiles,

And forced them into a foreign alignment

That has sunk the quirks and gaps in the front,

Creating fragments of faces that dissolve in the sterile sand of the sea:

Never gone, but so far lost that they will never be found.

Only grimaces are left,

In the parting of the lips and in the eyes.

They depart from the clinical appointment, blank,

Colourless sheets blown by the changing wind:

They are all exactly the same, but in whose eyes?

Ignoring the wisdom of the past, they resist by shielding themselves

In the very armour that ghostly hand designed.

Safety in numbers, hiding from reality:

All identical faces.