Burning Tar

© Lachertenok | Dreamstime.com

JPS Lotus. I liked the car,
Gold on black, medium tar.
So at 19, I had a drag on it,
But frankly, it tasted like shit.
If I had a million to give,
I’d remind that many how to live.
Cash and tobacco for influence,
Health lobbyists bullied into defence.
A formula for our lives or those jobs?
Coffins carried out amidst tear-felt sobs.
Marlboro Man looking cool on his steed,
But from his wheelchair, his aching heart bleeds.
Your Majesty’s government, I owe you a new spin,
Your addiction to money has my filthy old habit packed in!

JP Morris
No.1 Embassy Estates
Lambert City
United Tastes

31st December 1997

Ancient American Indian proverb

“Treat the earth well:
it was not given to you by your parents,
it was loaned to you by your children.
We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors,
we borrow it from our Children.”

Cry of the Ocean

Do you remember the beach?
Exploring the shoreline for treasure.
You picked up a seashell
And through its cavernous opening,
You were invited to explore the ocean’s mystery.

Its dreams unravel a mythical journey,
Exciting the infant’s imagination.
This magical story unfolds in your palm
As you gazed out at its vastness.
At that moment;
There you are.

Have you ever listened to the voice of the ocean?
Today, her cries grow louder.
Tormented echoes are being sent
Through rising currents
And her aquatic kin;
The dolphin and the whale.
Their ancient and peaceful rhythms disturbed.

From the depths of the ocean
Comes a message,
Vociferous in emotion.
On those gallant white horses,
Rides a pseudo exclamation.

Toxicity slithers in the ether,
Poisoning the soul within her.
Carried by her majestic waves,
Sent to overpower prosperity’s slaves.

Trading madness for stillness,
We add to her illness.
In man’s haste to consume
Our homelands,
She will slowly subsume.

Humanity and insanity;
An approach we must trade,
Else the portent of Armageddon
Will be tragically played.

Deafened by greed,
Man is hurtling
Towards death and destruction.
Do not be deceived.
‘Prosperity’ wears a seductive dark cloak
Worn by the Devil himself.

Rising tide of danger.

Swollen by melting ice;
Extinction will be the price.

The planet is in pain,
Through drought and rain.
Let us pray
For her watery spirit.
And that those cries,
Do not grow too faint.

Should icy blood drip from her poles,
The ocean’s new chorus to the cosmos
Will resonate.
Please God,
Save all our souls.

When you cannot listen to the ocean;
You are not.

Written December, 2000.

New adventure

This is the start of my adventure into the blogosphere. In my enthusiasm to find an original site and username, not to mention an attractive skin, I now feel too weary to write anything of note. So here is daring to be different. Let the journey begin.