The homie Barry, doing what he does best. This poem was one of the first I read this morning and I am glad that it was. Please show him some love.
Peace and blessings, beautiful people.
Hephaestus’ Waste & Cosmic Rubble
Photo by Anish Nair on Unsplash
The sun lingers longest today.
The weather-guessers were wrong
about the heat wave.
In fact, there was light precipitation.
I don’t even know why I wrote
“precipitation” instead of “rain”.
I’m no meteorologist.
I guess the unscheduled rainfall
wasn’t up to my lofty standards.
It was a halfhearted rainfall,
followed by an indifferent sunbreak.
Felt more like angel’s spit
than the weeping we’ve earned
for this crapsack existence.
My hemisphere turned
fully into the true glare
of sunlight, and everywhere I turn,
I glare at two shadows
of the Four Noble Truths.
I see only suffering and
man’s indifference to it.
I see children crying in pain,
fear, hunger, and terror;
if they’re lucky, they’ll just receive
the mercy of ignorance
in the form of being ignored,
or perhaps they’ll only languish
as the butt of cruel jokes
they’re mostly ignorant to.
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