You can find me on garbage island or sunbathing in Antarctica
Falling asleep and forgetting where we came from
Denying the dying polar bears and blue whales
Producing more plastic than we can catch up with
Instead of growing hemp to help
Instead of opening our mouths
Instead we build up and out
While I was waiting in line
The news reminded me to doubt
Giving up on ourselves
Can't you see the strings?
Connected to our hands and wings
Keeping us locked inside our minds
Teaching our kids passed down lies
Instead of seeing solutions
Instead of love we're using guns
Instead of light we're shedding blood.
Distracted by a song and dance
A models glance
A new(s) cast
A celebrity romance
The man that Tweets like a baby - McChick
But look!
Look right here!
Look at this
NEW shiny thing
Spend your green, spend in fear, spend it here!
but keep keeping on, keep keeping on
cause one day ya gonna quit and cash in and sit back on a beach somewhere
Sore and old
with a pension?
If they don't fire you before your benefits kick in
But wait!
There's more!
At least a week's vacation- a year and if you have a baby, well maybe they'll give you one more- or just employ her.
"But hush, hush, man, you're bumming me out, I can feed my mouth. Don't you remember, it's every man for himself?! How many times do I have to tell you, I promise I'll start living tomorrow, when I finally win the lotto and buy that Lambo."
Won't you try to listen and seek within?
Won't you choose love and kindness instead?
Follow your heart and inner bliss
Flip the script inside your head
With happiness comes the will to live
the best version of us, on this leading edge
Mirror, mirror we get what we give
It's for you
It's in you
It is you
About the Creator
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Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley7 days ago in Fiction
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