OCEAN DUMPING: An Eco-Lament

	Macro economic indicators suggest dat
	dumping kreates a long-term mezz
	kaus what kums aroond goez round &
	isn't dis planet integrated anyweigh?

	If yoo don't see how dah seaz konnect
	tah all things dan perhips yer progeny will get dah
	point kaus whin deir chromosomes go kapp-boink
	dudes 'll start bekumin' mönsterz
	proud ah dare techno-junk
	dat kreates miracles ah wealth für a few
	bahh also unexpected hunks

	Perhaps den
	it'z gad tah raw-member
	whad sum now blatantly seigh —

	Hey, what's wrong with a few tricyclic aromatics
	err chlorinated benzenes?

	Who said a little methyl mercury wazz a problem
	err dat we kan't handle hydro-furans anywuzz?

	Won't a bit ah asbestos make yah better 'n
	promote new industrial opportunities?

	Yep. Yep. Yep.

	Sounds ridiculous —
	bahh our ackshions muck it true

	So let tuzz offer slurriezz ah praise
	tah short-sided market industrial waste
	& sing dump loads ahh joy
	tah dah future perfect conjunction
	ahh „debased“ 

	Alleluia! need mure paenz tah greed?
	we're komposing superb kredos
	& polyphonies ta stupidity. 


SETTING: A quiet lounge of a bookstore that also serves as a coffee shop after a poetry reading. 
Soft lamplight pools over half-empty glasses and crumpled napkins. A small circle of friends 
sits around a low table, and the air still humming with the weight of words just spoken.

Jules:    (frowning after reading the poem)  This poem seems too dark and nihilistic.
          It's as if the poet has given up on any redemption.

Andrei:   (with a crooked smile, half in jest) Well, I think it's a good counterbalance to 
          the lighter stuff. Sometimes a jolt of darkness can wake the heart and shake us 
          out of our easy illusions. Granted, too much shock and most people go numb 
          instead of waking up.

Soo       (tilting her head, in a wistful tone, then looking at Andrei)
          I don’t mind gloom if it leads somewhere toward a constructive solution,
          but this piece... it wallows. It’s noir to the core: resigned, cynical, and 
          stuck in oblivion.

Ellesha:  (leaning forward) I like to think that every problem has a solution if we expand 
          our awareness. If we’re bold and creative enough to look thinks from a different 
          angle, some sort of answer manifests. 

Philyra:  (shaking her head, voice like a closing door) That’s a beautiful illusion, Ellesha, 
          but not always true. Sometimes the chess board is set, and every move leads to ruin.
          There are checkmates in life and some endings can’t be rewritten.

Elijah:   (pausing thoughtfully) Maybe. But even checkmate forces us to reconsider the game itself.
          Some games are not worth playing and the best move is to transcend the chess board.

          
POSTLOG:  The group falls silent again as people in the distance and drink coffee.
          The graphic poem lies flat on the table, reflecting both despair and a faint 
          glimmer of hope.


=====================================================================================
from _Let the waters be my witness: Messages about our watery world_ by T Newfields
SUMMARY:  A surreal eco-industrial poem and reflective dialogue exploring humanity’s 
          self-destructive dance with greed and environmental decay, asking whether this nightmare can be avoided.
KEYWORDS: dark poetry, literary dialogues, existential conversations, 
          philosophical debates

Author: T Newfields [Nitta Hirou / Huáng Yuèwǔ] (b. 1955)
Begun: 2002 in Nagoya, Japan  / Finished: 2025 in Shizuoka, Japan
Creative Commons License: Attribution. {{CC-BY-4.0}} Granted

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