Black is Wack

"The colour green is mean.

The colour black is wack.

The colour red has bled

All over my floor

I don’t wanna see colours

Anymore."

That's the beginning of a poem I'm not happy with the middle of.

There are a lot of things I'm not happy about. I think so few people really care about what's important nowadays. They seem to care only what colour jeans, what hip music, what cool gatherings and cozy restos they're gonna visit... People in my surroundings seem to stretch out all around me like giant, sticky, multi-coloured fungus. And they're poisonous. They give you their wants and lusts and cravings and insatisfactions, all behind smiling well-polished, hyped "enyoing myself" sad, grins. Is life only about enjoying oneself? Is there not something else then!?

Has everyone forgotten to look for the meaning of it all?

"Ye have made your way from the worm to man, and much within you is
still worm. Once were ye apes, and even yet man is more of an ape than
any of the apes."

 O man! Take heed!
          What saith deep midnight's voice indeed?
          "I slept my sleep-,
          "From deepest dream I've woke, and plead:-
          "The world is deep,
          "And deeper than the day could read.
          "Deep is its woe-,
          "Joy- deeper still than grief can be:
          "Woe saith: Hence! Go!
          "But joys all want eternity-,
          "-Want deep, profound eternity!"

- Thus spake Zarathustra






I think Yoko might still care.



WHY?



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