Syringe Beach

At any given moment
an innumerable amount of people
ask: “what is the point of life?”

Never a,
Never not the.

The Bible’s poisoned culture at large
With absolutes.

At any given moment
An uncountable amount of fish
Are dragged to the surface and suffocated

*

This poem has been interrupted
by a well-scripted man on the phone
From a global research firm

Wanting my opinions regarding
Television and my obvious
Insatiable appetite to watch it
And then buy and regurgitate.

“Will you watch this special tv program August 19th
at 8pm Eastern?”

“How much do I get?”

“You’ll be entered into a contest, like I’ve said.”

“I’d rather have the hour.”

“Sir?”

*

Anyway.

These boatloads of fish are brought to the surface,
The majority of which are completely worthless in
terms
Or transferring their flesh to $
And are routinely and sadistically shredded and tossed
Back into the sea
In the most asinine of occupations.

 The rest are shipped here to places like DC,
Where I now sit not a mile away from the Potomac.
A once majestic body of water adorned with
An uncountable number of birds and fish
And edible vegetables.
But now.
Nothing but views of phallus symbols and
The giant domes where genocide is planned by
God-fearing Presidents

But in these ocean vessels
Are men almost exclusively from Seattle and runaway
East Coast rejects from north Pennsylvania and what
not,

Who claim an Alaskan address for a three month stint
To return to the lower 48 for the next 9.
Roasting on their raped salary.

Transferring wealth from source to sink.
The pattern is rape and kill, move on and send back to
home,
rape and kill…

So…
It’s life and life only.
Is that right, Dylan?

Who perhaps slept with a few
Victoria Secret Models
filming that advertisement.

Well.
I’m a little off today.
Today there will be no explicit moral
To finish you off.
Nothing past these pseudo facts

Joel Van Noord

Please email me if you want to contact the author.