My brain is fried
Over easy
My brain cells died
Makes me queasy.

This nausea
Is giving me
New empty thoughts
Of hollow dreams.

Writing this now
I'm asking how
I've been endowed
With useless talent.

I just watched a news report
about ‘Direct-Air-Carbon-Capture’
which removes carbon dioxide (CO2)
from the Earth’s atmosphere
to reverse climate change:
Big fans **** in air
which is passed through liquid
which absorbs some carbon dioxide (CO2)
then the CO2 is extracted from the liquid
by chemical reaction to form
solid pellets of calcium carbonate,
thereby removing CO2 from the atmosphere.

One Direct-Air-Carbon-Capture (D-A-C-C) plant
can extract 1 megaton of CO2 every year
from the atmosphere –
which is equivalent to 40 million trees;
It would take 40,000 D-A-C-C plants worldwide
to stop further climate change.

I wonder
when will global society
become desperate enough
to avoid bad climate change events
like cyclones, droughts, floods
that governments will spend the money
to build these 40,000 plants
and save us all from climate change.

Read down.
--------
I am different.
That is because.
I do not care what they do.
I do not do the same thing as they do.
But I do not care.
All of them.
They tease me.
They laugh at me.
Because I am different.
I ignore them.
I stay silent.
I do things on my own.
I love what I do.
I am unique.
That's what I tell to myself.
They are all the same.
----------
Read up.

There once was a girl who

Hoped

Who dreamt

But it was not meant to be

Because the

Stars

They'de

Spoken

Sung

Written

Their ancient

Songs

Poems

Stories

And it was not meant to be.

Those cruel

Cruel

Lights

Had shone their

Torches

And found a

Different

Way.

So the girl

When she looked up

And saw no comfort

No truth

No love

In those cruel

Cruel

Lights.

Who had decided that

It was not meant to be

Because

Who was she

To try and write her own

Destiny

Who was she

That stupid

Naive

Little girl

Who was once foolish enough hope.

down by the river, we see through the shore,
and bear witness as human proclivities roar.

Diving into the water, we hold its wet hand
for the rivers enlivenment, so few understand:

so down by the river, we will lay in its bed
while lullabies sung by the lapping waves tread;
as the river explains, in liquid morals unsaid-
its teachings, in riptides ,flowing into our head.
  
as the sun on the water, scintillating, does glow
it calls to us now as we're destined,

we go.

I had a dream that I lost you.

The ground below had shattered and fallen, leaving you over an endless void.
White knuckles from clenching the railing,
you were barely holding on.

I was on the other side of this railing, safe on a sturdy platform.
You looked up at me with wild eyes, beads of sweat trickling down your face.
I outstretched my hand.

A hoarse whisper, from chapped lips, "You don't have to do this,"
I wasn't sure why I had said that.
After all, this situation hadn't been your choice.

Still, you clung there, unmoving. Just....staring.
I took matters into my own hands, and leaned over the railing,
grabbed you by the wrists in an iron manacle grip.

And then the flood came.

A torrent of rushing water broke through the chasm
as if a dam had broken wide open.
The raging currents roared their threats at us.

Your fear quickly turned to sudden confidence,
a grim smirk spread across your face.
Ripping away from my grip.

And before I could blink
You hurled yourself into the depths
Blood-curling, piercing screams.

Pinching my arms,
I can't wake up.

It wasn't a dream that I lost you.