WEPI's MY MAGIC CRYSTAL BALL ENVIRO-KOOL TOOL

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WEPI's MAGIC CRYSTAL BALL POEM

KOOL TOOL

THE TAO (WAY) TO A PEACEFUL WORLD

"A vision that must never ever be.

A lesson that must be learned"

- Valerie J. Elly

Every child must visit wepinet.com's wonderful

ProjectPlanetPeace.Com

"If we don't stop all the hating

then this grim sad destiny

is all that's waiting"

- Valerie J. Elly

A MOST DISTURBING POETIC VISION!

But Can It Save Us Before It Is Too Late?

Here's The Poem ... read it and weep!

UPON MY GOLDEN SANDY BEACH
By Brian Elly for the WEPI Institute and the Kids of the World!

 Please do not proceed if the "F-word" offends you! 

I woke this morning ...

The sun blood red against the

fading curtain, of another lonely night.

Another empty day to haunt me,

to torment me with the ghosts of

my long lost world.

My sleepy eyes still red

from my long night of weeping.

Who can afford a luxury like sleeping.

My family, dad, mom, sister

and brother too.

All gone ...

Victims of the nuclear blast.

Buried them all, one by one,

just beyond that rocky ledge.

My little sister last.

She tried ever so hard,

but the dice for her

was already cast.

Now all is gone, my precious past.

I miss them all so very much.

Only now,

after I have lost them all,

do I realize, that all my growing

pains of the past,

all my years of complaining,

their meaning, their worth,

were oh so insignificant ...

now that they are gone forever.

Please come back.

Please forgive me ...

Please can I have
another chance?

Too late!

I'm very weak, I don't know how

long I'll escape, the mighty grip

of the evil mist of death?

I tried again last night,

to make contact on the Net.

My sweeping software combing

furiously to and fro of cyber-space,

for any glimmer of trace,

no matter what the race.

Just to snatch a glance

of another weary, frightened face.

But "NO LUCK" came my laptop's
fading squeaky voice.

I pause ... for a little selfish mope.

My battery almost dead.

And so to all my hope.

Terror forever engraved,

on my grimy grim young face.

My heart hollow like an

empty vase ... silent.

I'll try again tonight.

I feel I have no choice,

I must find another voice.

Surely, surely ...

I can't be the only noise.

But sadly ...

The pain of knowing that I am ...

the only echo that is left,
to whisper aimlessly in the

cold fatal wind that blows.

Of all six billion amazing voices,

it is mine alone that remains,

to whisper my sad song of futility,

in the vast darkness that now is.

It engulfs me ... the silence ...

So completely.

I am lonely.

I am kneeling now upon

my golden sandy beach,

arms out stretched to the heavens,

I reach ...

I plead ...

and I ponder ...

How absolutely f%#king amazing.

With six billion limitless minds,

and all the wisdom of the universe.

All that we could manage,

despite our final parting drools,

was to prove incontrovertibly,

beyond a shadow of a doubt,

that we, after all is said and done,

are the absolute universal fools.

We couldn't learn, from what

laid behind our darkened doors.

The lessons of our past.

That a simple act of forgiveness

was all we had to give each other.

Our answer ... our salvation.

We had the universe at our mercy,

with a magnificent limitless potential,

to achieve so much and more.

We had a chance, we did,

to save our sorry souls,

to flow down the River of Love ...

and out to the Ocean of Abundance,

to find our illusive peace and joy.

But we had to wave our fighting tools.

We just had to shake them day and night,

to prove that we are after all ...

the absolute emotional fools.

No brains.

No heart.

No vision.

No love.

Just blind fatal fools,

with our ruthless killing tools.

Yes, that is what we are.

Absolute emotional fools.

And nothing we can do or say,

can buy us one more precious day.

Because it's far too late ...

It's time for us to pay,

for our silly futile games of hate,

that we just had to run and play.

The Game of Life has closed its door.

And now all that was so good for us,

is now lost to us forever more.

With our countless amazing gene pool,

how ironic that just one should triumph

over all our others,

our sinister evil gene.

Ninety nine percent of our genes,
we share with the chimpanzee ...

How that solitary one percent

had taken us to the end of

the universe and back again,

and created such wonderful

and stunning monuments, only

to foolishly tear them all down again,

in a moment of blind madness?

How crazy ...

I would gladly trade my one

percent, now that all is lost,

just to be like the chimpanzee,

to live blissfully,

and to just let life be ...

But we were too proud to learn

from our friend the knuckle walker,

better to be a smart good talker ...

then a mindless free stalker.

Oh The Planet of My Apes ...

It is safe here now,

on my golden sandy beach.

The cities and land are heavy, with

the Reaper's stenching odor. (Death)

But now, so sadly,

I lay upon my golden sandy beach,

lonely, frightened, drained, defeated.

So weakened ... no food for a week,

because nothing is safe to eat,

not even the fruit from the

gently swaying trees

by the old winding creek.

And as this weary, terrified,

nine year old boy ...

a young boy, who's only goal

in life was the latest video toy,

lies dying upon my golden sandy beach.

I scribe this message in the sand,

as the creeping ocean, quietly,

relentlessly, laps at the fingers

of my frail, courageless hand,

holding the picture of my band (family)

frolicking on our borrowed land. (home)

I hope someone gets to read my last

message, from this dying young boy.

I hope that they can read it,

and see the folly of our ways,

of all our fatal military plays.

I hope that they can answer,

the humble question from this

confused, dying lonely young boy ...

Humanity, with so much to live,

and so much to give ...

why or why so little in the end?

Is this message too late to send?

But now the time has come for thee.

The darkness ... so hard to see.

My failing vision is no more,

only the sound of the gentle sea.

But there's nothing left to write.

No ... there's no white knight,

to help me flee ...

I hear the Reaper's eerie echo,

touting what I know must be ...

the final breath for me.

His stinging bite is worse, then

that of a humble bumble bee.

A quiet SPLASH ...

as I sink gently forward into the
silent sea ... SPLASHHHH

Now as my lifeless, broken,

young body floats gently

out to sea,

with my tearful spirit looking

down on me.

It sees the relentless creeping ocean,

pristine, majestic and enduring,

line by line, lapping at my scribblings,

upon my golden sandy beach.

Water, water, indestructible water!

Why couldn't we be just like you.

To threaten no one ...

and yet to benefit all.

Now only the scratchy title to my

prose, is all that remains on my

golden sandy beach,

as the mighty, satisfied ocean

begins to recede, knowing yet again,

that she has won another trivial skirmish,

over another would-be conqueror.

Another foolish pretender ...

who thought he knew it all.

He thought he mastered nature ...

but all along, his fatal folly festered,

in his foolish hateful heart.

Hidden from his grubby hands.

And when he least expected,

it would rise up to strike him down.

And it did so magnificently.

He foolishly failed to master himself.

And therefore nature, true to duty,

had to master him.

Water, water everywhere,

as far as my floating spirit's
eyes could see ...

When a beautiful nine year old boy's
lifeless, weary, beautiful, calm body,

ever so quietly,

ever so gently,

ever so sadly,

ever so disgracefully, and

ever so shamefully,

drifted slowly out to sea ...

Once upon a lonely, golden,

sandy beach ... my foolish

humanity, silently slipped

away from me ... forever

- THE END? -

Inspired by the film On the Beach, and by
Walt Whitman's ... On the beach at night!

CLICK HERE FOR SOME EMOTIONAL HEALING

NO APOLOGIES FOR OUR INTEGRITY FOR KIDS

Please note that the "F-word" was included above because the WEPI team felt that the above KOOL TOOL should reflect reality and not what the moralists or politically correct brigade would like it to be. It is the WEPI team's ardent belief that a lonely nine year old boy would use the "F-word" in the above context and not a Pollyanna term to express his absolute dismay and desperation when faced with the reality that he is the last remaining human being on Planet Earth. The inclusion of the "F-word" is meant to shock you and move you to make you realize that this is a most serious matter. The saddest thing for our humanity is when good people sit by and do nothing, because the "F-word" may offend them or for some other reason. We hope that you understand and appreciate our honesty and integrity with our treatment of this most disturbing issue. We hope that the "F-word" has a less negative effect on you, and that you can rise above it to focus on the true real issue that the above KOOL TOOL addresses - humanity's fatal daily self-destruction ... and why are we so obsessed with destroying each other, no matter what?

The term Knuckle Walker is the name given to the chimpanzee because he uses his knuckles to help when walking, unlike we super sophisticates of two legs?

A Free Stalker is one who roams the earth without trying to impose his deluded egocentric will on it.

May the WEPIFORCE be with you always!