Your eyes twinkle differently.
They don’t reflect the yellow from the sunflowers nearby
but they seem to adore the tumultuous grey storm on the other side
who knew one so mellow could suddenly harden
maybe it hardened so it didn’t crumble -

but you didn’t realise the nature that surrounded you
a fresh breeze blew over the calm lake
green trees swung beside to provide you with shade
flowers grew alongside, and handed you their delicate seeds
they knew you would care for them even after they grew to become trees -

But you fell in love with the storm.

You became the ocean - almighty powerful, vast and destructive
yet so alone
no one ever saw you
except for bare, faceless rocks
or people who died taking their last hop
you comforted life in your darkest depths
but it never saw the sky above you
and only ever mastered hiding in the comfort of the blue

you didn’t protect the seeds of the flower anymore
those trees were too far away to shade you
the calm breeze was replaced by a violent gale
one that was too quick to move you

you may have progressed into the calm sea that is enjoyed
or you may remain the storm
but the salty sea will never be able to bring back
the sweetness that is gone.

Children of Louisiana,
Swept away and drowned,
In the river’s flood
And the ocean surge.
Never have recovered
Fully from the rain falling down,
And of a city that was purged.
Ignored by the government
And its fellow man,
Follow in a long line of sufferers
Since the melting, ice age glaciers
And even a tsunami in the North Sea
That wiped out Doggerland.
Dark Ages got darker as people ran
And Britain’s white cliffs were sheared.
Times got better and then got worse,
But the people carried on.
Now, the floods are a weekly thing,
A blip on a newscast,
As lost as the victims in a mess
Of other disasters,
Of wildfires, droughts and don’t
Even mention the quaking earth
Or volcanoes! We can’t take credit
For causing those!
Rich men in their castles,
Feasting and clapping each other
On their fatty backs,
Rolling in the spoils and spills
Of oil, on the flaming water of
The American plains.
Sheikhs in old Mesopotamia
Whine about oil pipelines,
Promised to them by President Cheney,
While the people starve.
Bloated oligarchs spread destruction
All over the world, from
The Congo to Chernobyl,
Melting icecaps and raising the sea,
Sinking islands where they don’t live,
Vacationing in the Maldives,
On special rates before those go under.
They won’t fix Miami, but let it sink,
But not before they plunder
The empty towers built on foolish dreams.
Of course, they’ll be the last to go,
Crammed into mansions up in the Alps,
Fighting with the European nobles
Over who gets a crumbling palace
Now sitting on the last ice floe.
A few American cousins round each other up
To catch the Dixie Flyer down to New Orleans,
Trying to hide from the polar vortex,
A dazzling case of ignorance and greed,
Only to find the tracks buried in the sea…
Down in the mud of the deep, brown sea.

A Chair far beyond reach to those that want it, and those that seek it out, Its desire seeks those weak enough to swallow whole.
Its miles below the surface dwelling in a cold depth far from all known life, behind an old wood door, miles further more, from warmth of sunlight.
It's a place so far from help, hope is hopeless, the Only way out is from within it, and your self.

Beyond the Wooden door, you become trapped,  the Chair draws you deeper, as the door is consumed into darkness, and all walls consumed by oblivion, your direction has been taken, as you lay bare and lost.
Gain just your footing, and your stars, only for the last peak of hope to fade away aswell as the above becomes below and below above as you walk into the darkness,
Miles you cross, into the abyss you've been lost,
you in stupefaction, hope now gone, the Chair draws you nearer.

This place will know you inside, know your heart and mind, it will break you, defeat you and after its won it seeks to decimate, changing your very way of being.
It will let you see the world through eyes not your own,
in a body you feel you simply occupy.
As you step through your own life it sheds you into darkness,  it forces you away from others and shelters you for its self to feed moreover on.
It creates a new you, alone, trapped in darkness and anguish.

Once it has taken your mind and your body, this is when  you have found the Chair, or it finds you, it waits, after all your pain and suffering after your fall from oblivion into the abyss of woes, you may sit, you may now find a place of gravity of center, this chair, or the darkness ahead.

If your wise you leave this chair, for it is the throne of death, it is your resting place, to sit is suicide,
The chair will force to vanquish your own life,
It chooses every method known to man,
It let's you decide, and as your final seconds pass with your last breath, you see the light that waited beyond the darkness tat was ahead, as you perish.

But to those that walk forward and pass the Chair,
Your granted life, and your granted happiness,
It will teach you more struggles then others will face but it will end, and walking onward will grant you life, happiness and wellbeing.

For that door is the pathway through the gates of depression, the Chair is the seat if death when you surrender to lifestyle struggles and the light is the hope you will never lose, walk forward an onward survivor of life and death.

His love was like an earthquake, and it rocked her world.

But one day, it destroyed everything she had built for herself.

All things bright and beautiful
all creatures great and small
all things wise and wonderful
we have defiled them all
a heap of broken butterflies
dodos & tigers too
it tells us all we need to know
about wonderful me and you!