1/20/2020 MLK day

And I wonder if Dr. King would be proud of Jay-Z --in 2019 became the first African American billionaire? (Oprah not that far behind) while millions more in the populace still work for minimum wage, even white Americans. All ethnicities in our "melting ***" it seems.

What is witnessed on TV is all illusion, political propaganda of American wealth. We're kept in line with lies and promises by corrupt leaders, as the country and it's house on the Hill divides.
We watch them celebrate their picture-perfect lives, millionaires paid by our taxing, happier than we (the people) who fight their wars. Even afterward, the wars here against inequality.

None care to share the wealth, to better lives, not even our education; information's omissions, as the News talks down at us, redirecting our attention to *** changed Kardashians. And most who're stupid believe it, or could care less.

So what now? Who's left to save us, to make things right? When even the righteous churches choose their parties, their money's in no short supply. Profiting off of nature, fracking old fossils fueled by greed, getting richer (even now from legalization of our highs) as the planet dies.

It's MLK Day  and I'm asking why --aren't we free at last?
(And I'm not even black).

I’m the old man, and the sea is the blank page before me, journeyless Journal, a so-called life to script, “Dear diary I’m the ****...”
    Oh how shall I drown in the words beloved, absolute the depth, the breadth of one’s soul. It’s Worth... While men die never to capture immortality, legends rise while spoken as freely upon the wind, the worthwhile songs some weep to feel how the greatest love feels ...
        Life .  Like an old man upon that sea, drowning to know love. (god)

Purpose.

How does one "talk" of  "feelings"/ when Love is Poetry.

And I wonder if Dr. King would be proud of Jay-Z --in 2019 became the first African American billionaire? (Oprah not that far behind) while millions more in the populace still work for minimum wage, even white Americans. All ethnicities in our "melting ***" it seems.

What is witnessed on TV is all illusion, political propoganda of American wealth. We're kept in line with lies and promises by corrupt leaders, as the country and it's house on the Hill divides.
We watch them celebrate their picture-perfect lives, millionaires paid by our taxing, happier than we (the people) who fight their wars. Even afterward, the wars here against inequality.

None care to share the wealth, to better lives, not even our education; information's omissions, as the News talks down at us, redirecting our attention to *** changed Kardashians. And most who're stupid believe it, or could care less.

So what now? Who's left to save us, to make things right? When even the righteous churches choose their parties, their money's in no short supply. Profiting off of nature, fracking old fossils fueled by greed, getting richer (even now from legalization of our highs) as the planet dies.

It's MLK Day 1/20/2020, I'm asking why --aren't we free at last?
(And I'm not even black).

Most alcoholics
who drown in their own thirst, drink
because “empty" hurts.

Is it insomnia
when I don't care for sleep?

The sort of sleep that is belligerent
interruptions at each half past
in the middle of every hour,
intervals of interlopers
awoken by invisible passersby
floating enemies striking me
with the hatred of their kinesis
cerebral lightning at my heart
or attempts at my suffocation
as I wake to a coughing start,
intruders invading my dream mind
as well as its peace

anything that would hurt me
they revel in my breaking,
I can hear the clicking of laughter
of teeth...

Deserts and all our cities
should have crickets,
yet Vegas feels like its been dying
the quiet now replete
no chirp of the lucky bugs
nor busying of bees with their buzz
rather its the fizzle of neon panic
the beatitude of cheats
the machinations of gamblers' defeat

or sometimes mostly
this deep in the twilight
a swarm of Ninjas, Suzuki, Kawasaki roars
toward their kabuki foot rubs
a twenty gets you a dub
rub you long time
for an hour behind red doors

Try to spank myself to sleep
if not to exhaustion,
but I can still hear the distant piercing
screaming
of latter days & soilent green
the secret war as alien is to any sound
sleep.

They look like people
we look like meat,
the living dead
their sake's flesh
all torn away and beat
up like faithful lovers that creep
seduced by the sluice
of the street / symphonies,
of rocket ship Discovery

Can't turn the volume down
in the black of night
when my mind's eye
is behind a veil
in the dark of 2:22
(in recovery)
and still the aliens
wretchedly wail...

whilst i'm
slumming in attempts at slumbering,
the greys are watching
humans lumbering
               and *******
two twenty two
in the dim
twilight
morning...

Is it "somewhat" convincing or strongly

Egregious

To have the planet spill

It's hades-deep caldron-lungs

Toxic fumes of green and sulfurs

Bubbling ooze gaseous fumes

Agree or degrees that disagree with bones

The flesh boiling

The mad mad Red that colors wrath

Cyclones down alley doom

Is that global

The warming of storms forewarning

As always looms

Like the undecided leaning

For domicile times

Rock the boat and get out and

Vote

Yay or nay / choose shameless

Be the fool

In the sins of ignorance

Bliss is as fleeting

As a kiss

This fool for love, knows nothing

But to keep the distance

2500 Ft.

Away from homes and all

Lively

masterpiece.

(We are products of our inhalations

And exhalations

Weeping

Oceans

Blue we

Breathe.  2500 Feet of Peace)

Beyond that who knows?

It is said that even in the darkest of places, deepest pitch of spaces, betwix the stars and distances of dream or wasteland, even in sleep, the Light will gleam, a heart will beat—so life is scene —through eyes we’ve seen, the truth of dark places, Light is found. Sight is sound.

SEAHORSE
Pregnant father sways
Rocking chair to oceans gait
Champions patient race.

STAINED GLASS
Broken pieces make
The Cathedral of your soul,
Stained light still shines through.

BUTTERFLY
A dangerous thing:
Inspiration’s fragile wing.
Metamorphosis.

3 a.m. Christmas Eve, the air is crisp,
the cold cuts neat
like the sweat that turns to ice,
a cold t-shirt underneath
thick sweater don’t suffice.
Like lost soles of homeless feet
trudging west,
walking the streets
3 a.m. Christmas Eve
No family, Santa, Jesus
to believe / (the reality of concrete)
The air is crisp,
the tears retreat
the long walk home
3 a.m. Christmas Eve...

MOONLIGHT
Lucid the nascent
Sleep — deep dark subconscious minds
Water-birthing dreams.

CONCUBINE
Wrapped in Red perfumes;
Soft business of Palest Moon;
Husband’s secret vice.

UNTIL
‘Til all songs are sung,
mortal breath becoming Wind;
‘Til Soul learns to swim.

LOTUS FLOWER
The morning blossom,
flora crown on tranquil pond;
She walks on water.

April Fools shower in the rain.

KARAOKE NIGHT 1
Lively out of tune
Songstress with liquid courage
Croons frogs in her throat...

KARAOKE NIGHT 2
Sushi and Sake
Raw mispronunciations
Glad songs of drowning...


FANDOMS OF CON
1.
Cartoon characters
Fantasies of Super-strength.
Comic mutations.

2.
Dog-leash for bear cubs
***-less chaps for Furries' dads
Parade in Folsom

3.
Cosplay to Conmen
Dungeons to Dragon masters,
Robbers at the bank...

Raised in So. Cali.
Those early 80's on the beach,
When reggae birthed the bass
Subwoofer heart beats
And poetry woven into the flow
Open mics
Yo Spoken Word!
Rap as verse to mTVs

Bittersweet symphonies

When brothers were too heavy
Living in the hood,
And my friends
Ricky and Richy
And Ricks
Richard
****
Have no riches / wealth
Drawing blondes
For non
boys
In the cartoon
Landscape of generation
gap
Not so trendy cool
Unless master Richy
Loud animated riches
Mr. Rich
If I only knew
If richness
Lets you

Then Come be one of every

Minority
Say they can see

His friends-collection
From unique
Reserves
The wild
Child
Around the world
each birthday party here

His pals his country
Their diversities not his equal
As stereotypes
Subterfuge

Cliche
Equality pursuant to Freedom
So says the people

This that is
Priceless,

Enjoying tangerine days
Sinking in the golden
Tropicana
And cold colbalt

Blue bloods
In a darkening sea

The sky bleeding
Only with the life of the sun,
Where in spirit

Oh summer Lovin' nights

Cooling the boardwalks
dynomite!
Beach kin
skins
A many golden
Tans and the scent of
Paradise
Florals and cocoa butter
brine...
Tight fit bodies
Chrome shiney
Tanning oils

The summer wafting

Sensual
Through our basking
In rhythmic sync

From early days
Those happy days
Then when I was tween
On my Schwinn

Gliding
like the wind

Dollar movies
Sand and some kind
Of wonderful

The most radical arcade!
Raised a native son

By marriage
I am a mix into one
A people
My face
Has a race,
I am islander
Fisher King

Golden lion with
Interstellar wings

Please Call me Fishsparrow's
Dreaming

Though summer hues
My skin accused
Unmoved
Unclaimed
I'm a Golden Mango

Among the Californication-Ing

Indian Summer's with a
Torquois bottom pool
I could pass for Hawaiian
Most dark Mistiso do...

Raised in California
We are as golden
As the landscape

Americana

I'm laid back
As California as the cheese
We got the beef cake
80s to 90s to Kpop to Goa

The flavoring
Of caramel flesh
Sweet sweat
Footloose
Skinny jeans
**** undulations
Body
Surfing
Those summer waves

Toward our Nuevo
Fluorescent future
Opulence
So free and quite
Brilliant

The light
With life experienced

Fearless with Midnights
We Conqueror sunrise

The days I reminisce
When childhood bliss
did not die
Just down for a nap

New cats' days
Turning tomorrow making
bacon
Brown skin
My Soleils
Beaches
Soothing Mists

Breath of Suns' kisses:
Wakes of oceans
Peace

Oh

Now I lay me down to dream
I pray the Lord
To help me wake...

Every new day
So thankfully
Experience every divinity

That thou love
Doth make

Alive without regret
Of and by the sea
I'm raised

I grew up
California
                  golden
As is
silence

And Making love  

With You
Early morning.... On the beach

Life arisen.
For light means Day!
Good morning
Glory

A louder Grace
Beloved
Will
Shall listen...

Accidental
  Beatnik
    Chance-
                   Dancing...

How Mornings open

The day with wonder,

Loveliest

Of bosoms...

Sweet green alchemy!
Let’s drink to forget the pain,
Love’s absence and strife.

The Pacific's heart
Depths down Mariana's Trench:
Life alights the dark.

This life is but a dream

Of sleeping beasts and hungry wolves...

I await the life that is

The dream of sleeping children

And kinder men

Some place elsewhere from here

Oh to begin again

Life

Our very own

Dream

Come true...

God is a word invented by man to identify a living universe, the creator, the first living fire, goddess and father, (earth and sky) the infinite absolute, and Greatest One (of All)...

LOVE is a bigger word for God. When we are living proof, a tiny speck in the eye of every storm, drowning mindlessly, killing for a small word men say "God" taking what's not ours, then it turns into something else apart from

The "Peace I give you"
Heaven and divinity... Seems further beyond our reach.

Love your perspective and process... Keep up the poetry, you rock!

Sisters, brothers
Fathers, mothers
Friends and beloved other
Birds of a feather
No matter the weather
We are here together

We suffer the same
Each of us to blame
The shame of losing truth
Allowing “them” to continue
To set foot inside the gates,
Disguised as though good
Excuses as human as soot
Endangered lives too late
Worshippers of lustful hate.

What is it that motivates
Those of you mindless heartless lifeless
Devoid of love’s grace?
Where for are thou
Oh human kind, racing to
The burning lake
Take take take
Mine mine mine

Who ******* cares anyway?
Just another day we prey
And slay the precious thing called
Life…
No cheese in this maze
Just rats devouring one another
In a cage of do as the Bible says
No questions asked
When all play the end game
Evil sits in First class…

We all bleed in wait
Suffer the same, til the very last
Of the devil’s wake
Witness the time pass
Drained of humanity
Aghast!

The matters of family
As we run on empty
Silent at mass.
Brothers sisters fathers
Fracking strangers and jacked…

Needles to threadbares.
Old Chinese secret-blood-map.
Porcupine poultice.

This is Eighteen the size of thirteen,
with the ego of twenty something stupid
"we are young heartache..."
to heart ache we stand - love and life
and the streets
we breathe and eat
everything seems like "a battle field"
still I look for myself
asking who dat? --inside
the mirror and the heart
who am I ?
Love is rain, life's battlefield
my thirst
droplets on the window pane
thunder outside
rolls hollow from inside mine...

On the other side of my bedroom door
opposite George Michael's poster
faithfully ****
a married couple argue
about money, about fidelity, about anything
that leaves the blame
on the one who feels more empty
but somehow
momma's too smart of a mouth
wakes the Kraken
and a drunken man is not a man
when he loses sight
as his manly fists lands an eye
a cheek, a lower lip

This is eighteen the size of thirteen
defense against a wall of baller height of 6'6''
I crash against wood and tile
in a haze of screams and electric sting of pain
the smell of beer
and falling purple rain
from the iron blow of fathers
drowning his demons
inflicting pain
rather than feeling himself
his jealousy has morphed into a vicious wolf,
blind with red hate...

From the floor I grip her hand
our eyes speak with one another
as we wept and I vowed this - the last
time he hurt my mother
or any other...

Prince on the FM, a deeper rain
with a perfect anthem
for those darker days

When our tears were so deep
they stung
our hearts in its flood
purple rain and blood

this was Eighteen
the size of two hearts growing up
Gettin'
strong...

Poetry
Consider it / Art
Upon a different kind of canvas.
Paint colorful the words
That weep brushstrokes
A masterpiece of true blue

Fool, let your words flow
Your virtual canvas imbued
With learned mind aglow.
A light tower on the Hill
Picturesque poems
Low and On the down
Low and behold
The rhyme of stone willed.
Still Art / life / on canvas
Of a different kind...
Paint colorful the words.

Yours is a tapestry.
Grapes ripe on the vine.
Be the Art
flowing like wines,
Drowning in the emotions.
Oh poetry.

Never cease the heart
Live loud your Love
an act & the Art.
You are
Poetry.

One of few
words that has no other definition
but itself both
written and referenced
with many synonyms similar
a muse universal and familiar
adds shade for heated
hearts all quite
Red
like a rose
it is it's own unique beauty,
long stemmed
Thorny
Blood red
Love
it is nothing but...
everything.

not Lust or Covet, for they are too brazen
and carnal with their hunger
unlike Love, which fills the need
steadily--in time, relieving the craving,
leaving contentment
then feeding others without requirement
of payment...

not Adoration or Crush
because they are still children
without the understanding
or capacity for self-sacrifice
which Love is familiar to
like years unconditional
this trust is a marriage between
naïve and wise...

not Passion or zealous Desire,
due to their one-sided tunnel vision
without compromise or sway,
almost indifferent to all else
but the prize at the end;
for Love has its eyes in everyday
at all times in your corner

not Like or Fondness, for they are weak
in emotional life,
half devoted and half way gone
waiting for the other
to finish a simple thought
indifference is not a line to cross;
because Love cares for both
itself and yours and all others
"love thy neighbor as thy brother"

love is willing to carry the weight
always keen to always wait
no matter how long
or how late...

It is so wonderfully loyal
Love is
at times often motivated
by a blindness for only it's devotion;
but true Love
does not worship
and sometimes must let go
to preserve its integrity,
for if it is real
it will return with more fuel for the fire
to light the warmth of our hearths
higher...

Love commits fully
even unto death, whether star-crossed
or over time's deepening breath,
it is defined by each
and all
it's own victory and story...
Still,
a difficult thing,
to fall in Love
and never fully understand
not a word refuse
Not one but Love
Recused

A difficult thing…
To know love is true by
How your heart breaks
Letting go
A most difficult thing...

I admonish myself

Must devise a plan
It takes steps to move forward
It is said
One foot in front of the other
And at the end
Of my rope,
All I can muster is hope,
Wish like prayer
The words do nothing.
I can only save myself
And my soul is something
My Goldmine to protect.
But god how I thirst !
For a breath of true,
A life of worth.
At the end of my rope

I admonish myself.

(I hope)

Always keep your mind,
Your heart, and your eyes
Open.

What would Jesus do?
Let's not assume.
Just stay True.

All that we have we cannot hold
Our material time, the physical seeds we sow
The impermanence of touch, life filled with words,
All things we learned from what most hurts
It’s only human to want, and grieve
From the depths of hollow need
But the One true thing we keep is the love
We know we must set free
It is a star in the dark of night
The beautiful memories’ shining light
No wish or want or need to be told
Cherish what hands cannot but the heart
The mind and eyes behold,
A star in a heaven made of gold...

That’s a father’s Love
Not to believe in but Know.

There’s a distance, an echo
Of hollowness
Upon the blacktop
Asphalt concrete
Sidewalks 3 in the a.m.

I am more than
This
Heaviness
Like the iron bars
Of prisons.

Your faraway
Song, an echo
Of hallowed
Be

An Infinitesimal touch
Of infinite
Within the heart,
Fully filled by
Sublimity
Overcome to tears,

At dawn, like the sun’s
Brilliances.

Life
As evidence
Trillions all
In benevolence

Seeing
The light…

“I am more
Than this
Heaviness of

Emptiness
Within
My soul

I am
More
Than this …
shallow
Shadow’s
Hollow.”

I am ...

Don't come, not yet...

But if you must

Take me with you,

At least delay until I come too...

Let's slow the pace of heightened

Heartbeats, breaths - red

Hot like the blood flow

The flush on faces,

The temperature of noon o'clock...

I know you love it

When we both come together

Sweetly stuck together

Like magazine pages of **** pictorials

Quickly now, nutcracker unload,

These Late lunches that glues us

Together.

Overtime doesn't feel so much like work,

And you leave with a smile,

A bill on the counter.

A brief insult to my prideful high,

This hookers going to buy

Some lingerie

On her lover's dime.

How delightful to waste time...

*(Consumption)

Burn-marked streets littered
with streamers, dead confetti,
Revellers sleep in.

(Life is living art)

AGAINST THE BRICKS

****** leans
Against the bricks
Gotham gothic walls
Left thumb hooked on a pocket of his
Faded denim jeans
Right hand caressing a carnation
Steady

Ready to go
Mr. ****** in a James Dean glow

Mean
Black leather jacket
Shiny slick like
Ghetto pothole puddles
Wet lacking rain

Only street lamp
Spot light
Backstreet dangerous
****** leans with
A flower for Ms. Green

Come hither squeeze

He waits
There in the sallow
Glow
Another shadow
Against the bricks

Graffiti Canons spray paint art

Masterpieces
Within living scenes
Cool as concrete rain
Patient as an evening breeze
Passing moments
A Smiley face
Honest pain sculptures
Poetry is exploding
Street Glean

Art full in appreciating
brick walls

In his ****** lean
Worth is in / our noticing

This

Life's living work of Art.

1.
Poetry is
Writing what all we felt
When the heart is asked
To translate.

Poetry is
Love,
Made malleable
Through the eyes
Which behold beauty.
Poetry is Life,
The love of life, malleable.
Poetry is meant to be
Touched by
To be moved by
(and with)
Love...

Poetry is
A song of words
A dance of exuberant emotions
A Grace
       Full of gracious
(a)  Lover's kiss.

Poetry is
Jump for joy and stabs of sorrow
Sculptor Singing Sepulchers
Molding nights & days
A mash up
Into one and the same
Something brand new
Reinventing
Recollections
Of / For / To  - You
True blue or Red hot stuff
We lie to believe in
Ourselves
Something better / New
Flower Love Child
You had better
Best believe
Poetry is
You.

2.
It's not what you're looking at,
But what is seen.
What you see / what you feel
In the zeal of heart's appeal
A beautiful up-lifting
To artistic heights

Poetry is
Mortality made miraculous
Charisma and magic
Choreography of verb / Oh's Of nouns
All the world - a profundity
Of Our lives
Whether lost or found

The Love letters / in red envelopes
Your heart
Crowd surfing
Amongst the herd;
Blossom bouquets of passions
Poetry is

The quietude and secrets
Kept
In the shade
In a home, a warmth made
Or an ode to a glade,
For the night
Of the empty souls'
Respite

Poetry is...
Your bleeding heart
Shining bright
Your Grace
An invisible light
Only to be seen
By knowing
One's true
Feelings

Poetry is
A Painting
Of Love's loud moments...
It's not what you gawk at,
But what is gleaned.

Poetry is...

The beautiful thing
About love
Be it ethereal & divine
Be it a ruse or lie
Stealing us away from
Our kismet shine
Everywhere
It's everything, so
Follow lovingly
With heart & eye
For love is
An ocean quite brilliant
See & freely choose
A path for you
To follow
Love is
A beautiful thing...

Certainly
Trust is a ***** pill.
Show me
Your skills at giving
Love
Better made in
Certainty.
Trust is the morning after
Still..

Siempre Vivir
Go quench the thirsty heart's soul,
Cuz love drinks for free.

A perfect circle not yet
complete
has a gaping mouth
constantly
it will speak
has a void to fill
and so it eats
it can't help but be loud

C  how flat tires progress
U  may mistake for Pacuman
n ot so mindful without face
)criptid void's singularity

not so singularly polite
a circle incomplete is so similar
to an unlived life...

"No one will know the whole story
until its all been told"

Talk is cheap / Silence: Gold

and around and around
we go...
"Weeee!"

(Perfectly childlike
circles in the playground
laughter in our soul)

When in doubt, pouting about, feeling empty without…
Say it loud… ain’t this Somethin’?

Everything is possible, the universe is proof
The infinite and the finite
We all know how to seek & look,
Dream big out loud, drink up the stars,
Say it… now, ain’t that something?

If Everything is everythang,
Then Nothing’s impossible
To achieve, and it’s easier to blindly believe,
But we must prove it with something
Seeing is not just looking
Like a man,

Who wakes from sleep walking,
(Footprints in the sand)
Because sometimes, having Nothing leads to
Hating everything, but I tell him, (Lucid now)
Ain’t Life Somethin’?

So stop the ******* complaining, wars & politicking
Killing and polluting the planet, please stop...
Now
Don’t stop making more of love, no sexting
No prostituting out your family’s church
When it’s door to door, behind closed doors,
In missionary…
In the family, the genus of propagation
Genius of gifts, over population...
***

A little something can be everything,
To those poor and lonely.
Hungry
For a smile be it ever so
    humbled
Behind a mask ‘ can’t breathe,
“—‘Said speak don’t mumble”
Show some sincerity please
just because...

Ain’t this Somethin’?
Witnessing this moment’s
Spectacular Now…

It’s Time we have/
More than talk
(tik tok)
Don’t spend too much of it trying
Or surfing the web crying
Living ain’t dying, just quit hiding...

—Rather, Go! play outside (boy)
With Laughter and joy —it’s quite
Somethin’
To gaze upon starlit skies
Rather soar on high/ space flight

Big Bang —Surprise! ...
Ain’t Life Somethin’?

Live it, love it, hate it, **** it
Not for nothin’
But ain’t you Somethin’?
Give it your all
Give it life, you mothers...truckers...shucks!
A Word is a word, ya heard?
Cuz Life is quite Somethin’—
At birth Til six ft *****
We are worthy
We are...
Certainly beloved,
                  ain’t it Somethin’?

(If it's your life, be ‘Captain’)

Most prized possession
Priceless, precious thing, he hoards
*her untouched beauty

In a Kernal of good corn
Inside such seeds: hope
And millions of futures fed

In the kernal of good deeds
Are all harvests fertile fields
Our hands to bounty wed

If only good surpasses ill
Of storms of greed and needy
No blind minds inept
Or powerful lusts
A contagion of men
Disease that eats all life's ken
To a green house death
As blue turns to desert dunes
Dirt and sky of red
All of us purchased, energies consumed
By hot days' heat
Hell's dry solar breath

If only good were keenly seen
And symbiotic sleepers were awake
In every seed a tree, a breath, a shade
A Kernal of peace
If only for goodness sake.

New
To this plasticity,

Grey matter in a nimbus
Mind as infinitely hollow as
A galaxy or dungeon deep dream
Lost to the starlight oblivion

Of distances we place
In the familiar / fealty with our touch,
Our human gravitas,
Spirit and superstitious will,
Heavy by testaments, those old teachings still...

And yes, war has been our
Problem-child
And like the parents that we are
In these days, digital,
We are unwilling to accept the prognosis

Nothing more can be
Poured into a vessel,
Nothing more can be fed into the flame,

If ash and black
Lift into the sky…
It will be alien

To even try to
Resurrect another age.
When there is no warmth or
Use for light
It’s a world unbecoming
alien…

New
To this plasticity,

Grey matter in a nimbus
Mind as infinitely hollow as

A galaxy or dungeonous dream
Lost to the starlight oblivion

Of distances we place
In the familiar / fealty and touch:

Our human gravity
Spirits and superstitious will

Heavy by testaments and old teachings still.
Yet war has been our

Problem-child
And like the parents that we are

These days, digital,
We are unwilling to accept its prognosis

Nothing more can be
Poured into a vessel,
Nothing more can be fed into the flame,

If ash and black
Lift into the sky…

It will be alien

To even try to
Resurrect another age

When there is no warmth or
Use for light

In a world that has become
alien…