Philip Copeman

Author and Activist

Who would have thought in the first half of the 21st century,

That minds immeasurably inferior to ours would bring about our end.

Each day more beautiful than the last, crescends in a strawberry sunset,

Vanilla clouds sparkle for a brief moment and darkness is served.

I spent a lifetime, too busy for fiction

Now find myself drawn to old sci-fi,

Speed reading, grabbing at falling bank notes.

Oblivious to their worthlessness.

On the Beach foresees the ever widening gyre engulf us all.

There is no refuge for the innocent, for there are no innocent.

Blood red is the sky, a reminder of how we took for granted,

Nay how we missed, the opportunity to love our fellow man.

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