You have destroyed the world.

by Simon Bernard Elliott

YOU HAVE DESTROYED THE WORLD ON YOUR OWN
You looked into a cheaper way to pleasure yourself. The dead owls and eagles are thankfully at rest.
You´ve seen a new thing you want to own but first you must sacrifice a part of yourself. Credit card love to you.
Swim sweet spender between broken glass in this dark pool.
Produced by freedom of illusion factories and "learn to buy" schools.
You´ve betrayed mother nature without knowing how morbid our futures will become.
Good intentions have rotted to the last stage of decomposition. Apocalypse can finally come.
Fantasic devastation and investments your gross income bought! How proud, how proud a child with a gas mask is of his polluting ignorant father. Wastelands for playgrounds, countries to starve, discounts on radioactive everafter!!!
Tree huggers your enemies? Your consumer esteemed practical destroyers of the earth. Bankrolling pesticides and plastic
Self satisfied lazy humans of the afterbirth.
Pour smoke into the skies so that acid may rain onto our crops. Do it for progress! Do it for god.
Do it for toxic six legged frogs.
Torment the future generations with your lack of repect. See climate turn into a consequence of the devil having sex.
And born to love consumption you don´t see the disgrace. As pristine Rivers are polluted, spend and laugh in my face!
Lifes an airport baby

by Simon Bernard Elliott

Time stops sometimes in dreams, in circumstances severe or in loud screams.
Sweet mushrooms and novelties can´t start it back up like some remedy.
friendly groups of unknown strangers come upon you curious as they smoke, sing and advise you about the little they know of your life.
Life is an airport carpark for some, desperation lingers like a hangover.
Beautiful silver doors are opened to you revealing... world class bathrooms and sometimes half rotten vegetable peelings.
Streets that crave and unfamiliar places often play with our ambtion for navigation.
Though my car moves it is an anchor.
They didn´t let me park it at the airport, airport authorities denied me entry.
I´m a voyager in my work, choosing when to deny or when to agree.
Some vacant lot is where some feel free, with tarmacs below and above planes exchanging the cool breeze.
Skeletons out

by Simon Bernard Elliott

He moves behind our city, pacing backwards and forwards. I plea with him to stay far from me.
His pacing and his lack of his skin.
His heartless bones that follow my footsteps and breath down my neck.
His endless hunt in the rivers and lakes where the bones reflect brightly and send terror through the spine.
His joints crack and his sharp jaw mutters as he stalks with one eye to guide him.
Some poor drunk alone on the street curb swimming in trash and humming his life to the rats. Was taken by the pale cage like frame and helplessly dragged away.
The skeletons pacing and searching, delivering terror and decay.
The skeletons out today.
A mile from the target.

by Simon Bernard Elliott

Somebody put their finger on the lense.
One second of attention.
Somebody slapped my ear while i was aiming.
Gave me ten great days of tension.
Work and see, sleep and let be.
But hallucinations and insominia have already agreed.
In every direction there are targets.
And like furious hornets. Provocative scorn skits.
I see you all shooting them having so much fun. Never asking will your day ever come.
Making targets, don´t be so cold that you´d turn into one.
Blink of an eye

by Simon Bernard Elliott

Somewhere in the great belly of the land is indigestion, molten lava, rock and mud.
Deep down where the earths bones meet its blood.
A place only the damned could ever admire.
Under Japan the circle of fire.
Hot indigestion rocks the hell out of this vulnerable surface.
Washing the colour out of cities and out of hope and human purpose.
Opening long jagged cracks as if to age the land. And shaking like a stroke victim with nowhere for his hands.
Tremors...
Under your feet and in the blink of an eye, the earths indigestion and the seas heavy cries.
In congested cities and where power plants fry, there´s nowhere to run, no safety far or high.