Every once in a while an OMFG reader would like for us to help them express a story, lyrics, or poem that they have written. This one is from Andre:
The September sun is licking the congregation of trees in the stream bed deep across the patch of different kinds of tiny rocks pressed together into a black river of motorized vehicles propelled on rubber. Fighting through the hydrogen and oxygen apple white clouds that filter its light from hundreds of millions of miles away onto the emerald blades of grass covered by the fantastically colored leaves that have fallen from their birthplace dangling in the sky. Veins of mahogany brown on the stems signifying their death. There are remnants of the illuminating vert life that was Spring. The fallen leaves are dressed in blood red, mixed into ripe corn yellow and finally meshing into the color of a dying fire with embers shooting across a western plateau desert at dusk in the winter air of December.
The suns’ rays gently brush the underside of the fallen leaves living cousins still suspended and dancing with the wind. The light still comes. Rushing past my clear square portal into the world that acts as a barrier to the elements….the sounds, smells, and texture of nature. Dog barking down the street. Chorus of cicadas and grasshoppers as the sky turns peach. Birds gathering food, food for their babies that cry out nestled high in the arms of an aged oak. Feel the sweet soft smell of dew from recent rain enter your nostrils. The wet cold earth forming around your feet as you walk across the yard. The trek of light now coming through the streaking pink and purple sky passes through the long strips of plastic suspended by woven strings that, with a twist of a clear hexagonal piece of plastic, can block all this warmth and beauty out. The beams of light from the soul of our existence collide and cast a shadow on the pear cut in half and left out for 8 hours colored wall one pace to my right. My fingers and pen stretch across the page as the sun progresses across the screen of the universe.
So fragile, it is all so fragile. The house of cards that is earth and its complex ecosystems, life…leads me to believe, on a smaller scale, that the more complex something is….the easier it is to destroy it. Eliminate or wear away at crucial and integral elements of society and nature. All the while being distracted constantly by a status quo that has been pre-set by some gentlemen or lady hundreds of years prior to our existence in a musty, whiskey stanched, Churchill cigar smoke filled room that only offers light from a minuscule office lamp on a bureau in the corner that catch the plumes of puffs pushed around the four walls by a slowly turning dusty fan fastened to the ceiling spreading the smoke and darkness throughout.
We follow it in order to survive and enjoy our experiences of life here on our outpost in the backwoods of our universe while at the same time destroying it…. The sunset looks beautiful tonight.
