Sixth Mass Extinction

Earth's sixth mass extinction event under way, scientists warn

-The Guardian

The headmaster has shaved his head egg-smooth
Shifted his hair to the point of his chin
And his sunshades to the top of his scalp
His petrol-station SAS sunshades

He often boasts he doesn’t even own a tie
And hasn’t read a book since Upper-Sixth
Something transgender post-colonial
About Guevara (who is on his tee)

Not a form master, but a master of forms
A way-cool disciple of Ofsted norms


Variant for the American Market

Sixth Mass Extinction

Earth's sixth mass extinction event under way, scientists warn

-The Guardian


Like, you know, the principal shaves his head

Like, absolutely, ***

Got him a goatee, like, actually

Cheap gas-station Official USA Navy Seals™® shades, mannnnnnnnnnnnnnn

Not cool, ***, actually

I had to help him with the big words in Goodnight, Moon

Absolutely, like

Yosemite Sam™® on his faunky ol’ tee

His office has, like, stuffed fish and, like, football pictures, like, and his Dallas Cowboys™® baseball cap, like, actually

Gazing down from my hotel balcony, a beautiful breath taking view, acres of landscaped gardens, flowers, trees of every colour and hue

My eyes travel over an azure blue bay. To a thousand coloured sunshades assaulting my mind

An ants nest of seething half naked humanity, burnt red and covered in oil. Surrounded by discarded bottles and cans and wrappers of ice cream stained foil

For a week they're going to lie there, bodies burned raw by the sun. Their idea of enjoyment, their idea of holiday fun

I have walked the length of those bright golden sands, smelt the stench of the stale cooking oil. It gives me no pleasure to linger here while I have the real Malta to enjoy

Beyond the human pollution the sand dwellers love a burnt barren ridge gainst the sky. And yet from this red brown earth an existence bis clawed by the strength of a strong Maltese hand

My gaze travels left to the beautiful church and the cream coloured town just beyond. The old and the new joined hand in hand where concrete marries natural stone

How many of the sand dwellers have enjoyed what this beautiful land can provide? Have they truly experienced this island,  seen life on the other side?

In a few days they'll be up there flying back to the place they call home, but from what they experienced of Malta they might just have well been to the moon

Mid October takes its end of season's leap
into the solitude of post-tourism autumn.
The landscape shows its truer face to celebrate
the reassembly of local solidarity.

Tat and trim tucked into hibernation,
chalkboards erased,
scant takings totaled,
inflatables deflated.
Unsold crafts packed between pages of yesterday's
'Correio de Manha'
Shocked freezers stand open-mouthed
their diet of ice dwindled to a thin trickle.
Sunshades collapse in deep south style,
redundant loungers relax supine.

Kids ***** back to school -
a mule-train of shoe-scrapers packed to the hilt
dawdles through warming scents of
post-salad indulgence,
sweet with the street-aroma of 'feijoada',
garlic, and  aromatic oregano
***-grown in a back plot, littered with
discarded placards and tired bikes.

Past men leaning doors, unsure of new routines,
idle hands and minds with new time to fill
mostly in cold bars for warm camaraderie.
Women pick fitfully at quiet-season's crochet
squatting to gossip under a white wash
slung and pegged, stick-sure
against thin bleached facades.

Under Planes, old comrades congregate
shuffling at a make-shift table,
tired eyes set on cards,
playing for cents under a limited sky
once defined by Salazar.

Car parks thin.
Beneath the russet canopies street-sweepers
scorn a reckless wind, where still sun-crisp leaves
gather in gutters, thirstily anticipating
the first deluge under autumn's gathering clouds.




copyright © Caroline Grace 2011

The streets were paved with hawkers
Flamboyant sunshades
two dollar sunglasses discounted from
twenty thousand pesos.

I couldn’t walk past the conversation of skytowers
Underwear hanging precariously
Off high ledges where it was hard to read
The designer labels

A man with a small monkey
Was reading fortunes
With an ape like face
He certainly saw the future!

A delicious woman with pushed up
***** beckoned me away from boredom
I walked into a valley of sinister looks
For looking away.

At night the sky shed its diamonds
On the sidewalks of ecstasy
And the digital signage
torched the front of buildings
With blue and red flames bursting
Invitations to your wallet

I carried a six pack Lion
Home to watch the night sky
Dance till dawn with necklaces
Of neon.

Author Notes

Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 7 days ago

Playing by all the rules,
or so it seems,
the out-law fears
nothing and no one
as she
places her backwards cap
atop her
full head of fine hair,
sunshades
hiding her wide
toffee-colored
eyes.

Chewing ******* a piece of
wintergreen gum
like a first baseman
and some chaw,
she grips the steering wheel
as a heavy clap of
bass
emits a thundering chorus
out her rolled-down windows
into the half-empty street.

Brow furrowed,
the out-law ponders her next move,
bobbing and weaving through
one-way roads;
the destination she knows,
but the route is more
a riddle
yet to be solved.

The light air
and brilliant rays of sun
that sneak behind
puffy white clouds,
the out-law senses
some promise
from the
universe.

Lungs still filled
with
smoky wisdom,
she reflects intricately
on the life
lived by she
in the past few months,
gaining insight
into her own
optimistically
curious
soul.

She slurps
her Diet Coke
thirstily
as her cottony mouth
forms words and phrases
she one day
wishes to utter.

Time and space,
they are dear friends of the
out-law,
so drive she does
down that
long
windy
road,
twisting and turning
on the beacon of self-discovery
and hope.
And
love.

The out-law
watches the sky,
fascinated
by the rich colors
the sun paints
as it falls into a state
of serenity,
and
the out-law feels so serene.

Leaving comfortability
and safety behind,
the out-law relishes
in the excitement of the unknown,
getting high off
the fumes
of the uncertainty
that looms.

On she drives.

Thinking about it, for example
Sometimes I was astounded at how I used to be able to
Do everything with such confidence

Examine the flight of a bird, attempt to copy it
See the world in my eyes and laugh
Because it all seemed so wonderful

How there were times, when the littlest of things
Could make me tear at the eyes with happiness
Or burn in my ears with rage

Now everything fades, like the colour that dissipates
I see the sunshine sliding through my eyelids
But only just, never reaching its destination

I always told myself that it would be okay
The world would shut itself away, but I would
Like I always had, continue smiling

The sky has shunned me forever now
It takes its pride in something else
And leaves the petals of the closed flower untouched

Maybe there were times when I should have
Tried harder, done better, does it matter?
I don’t even know whether or not it would have changed anything

The world keeps loud and racing
Nothing silent for me
All the entry-points blaze with fire

I am heathen, and all that has passed
Is testament to its existence
Though somehow I cannot see

I can barely make out the sunshades, and they
Twinkle at me with delight
My last rays of light

While I missed the morning star.

I found the woman I adore
Wandering through head shops and record stores
Glowing eyes behind her sunshades
My depression my melancholy fades
Tattoo parlors and rock shows
Are all I've come to know
My punk, gypsy, hippie queen
More beautiful than anything I've seen
But romance doesn't happen this way
I'm left without the words to say
I choke on my intentions and fears
Past pain echoes that I still hear
All my doubts break me down
Stuck on the girl I never found

i want to party with the young dudes

cause they are very very very very hip

i will party with the young dudes from now until next week

by playing a bit of poison and def leopard too

which will be ever so ****** cool

put your sunshades on and we can party with every young dude in town

you see we go and drink taquila

and we gulp it down real fast

then we try a bit of bourbon

and add some coca cola yeseree

yeah, maybe we will try a bit of ***

yeah a real party drink that is

and then add coke to have so much fun

that will be so freaking ace, man

you see as i am partying with the young dudes

it’s the best thing that i ever did

partying with the young dudes is so cool

my mate yeah mate yeah it’s cool

In the beginning, a glass is empty.
Just a hollow cylinder that's patiently waiting.
It would then be filled with a liquid.
This liquid, whatever it may be, would find itself  
   permeating the glass -- adjusting to its surroundings.
Life.
It's all about your attitude.
Is the glass half full or half empty?  
Do you choose to see life in full daylight  
   or through the lens of your sunshades?
Will you simply adjust to your surroundings
   or will you boldly choose to change them?
It's all on you, really.
So tell me...
Is your glass half full or half empty?