Tag: plastic

Broken Arrow Peddler (day 3139)

ned Leave a comment

Ten shades of a broken arrow
Stretched across the sky
Moon and sun both couldn’t hide
So they raged, no dawn, no dusk.

A peddler man came walking down
In a suit quite unknown in that world,
Had two tones of gravity
Two handfuls of pure dirt.

In each promise the hook was set
Deeper and deeper it took
Just like moon and sun,
They raged, they raged, they raged.

The end became, the gone be gone
The rules left written down
Nailed to a city square post
Discarded cloth and plastic close by.

The moon became calm and laid away
A soft silver spoon for a tomorrow,
The sun, alert, smiled peacefully
And awoke children so sewn.

Window Speak (day 2255)

ned Leave a comment

What borders your mind
Living inside windows
Waving at only full moons
From the bottom
Of a claw foot tub.
Does conscience
Grab your envelope
Of regret as a child grabs
A pumpkin to smash?
My Lilies have grown up
Convincing dilated pupils
Of a two for one deal
They cannot pass up,
But you don’t like purple hearts
You dive deep into paper cups
Shredding tomorrow
With dull plastic knives
And this is goodbye
From your window I’m waving.

The Last Frontier (day 1925)

ned Leave a comment

The last frontier
A land without reassurances
Insurances
Propagation and planning
Responsibility
Idealistic values of bequeathing
Handing down
Lost
Forgotten while paying bills
Forgotten while building lists
Forgotten in the lineup
For groceries we could grow
And plastics we don’t need
And products we discard
And inconvenient conveniences.
The last frontier
Pulls back allowances,
Disregards misused rules,
Plays fearless.
The last frontier
Rides the whole wave in
Over what’s screaming and yelling
What’s poking and scraping
What’s pulling at the conscience
To be prepared and out of the moment.
The last frontier
Is the silence at the end
And the symphony in climax,
Gathering speed
And surviving with breath
After all has come, gone,
Realizing everything is as it should,
The heart beats on,
The challenges still arise,
And the feet sink just a little further
Into the soft sand
Beneath toes
That fight for what they believe in.

Sun (day 1480)

ned Leave a comment

To be the sun.
To scream bloody murder
And mean it in a good way,
To wake up and go to bed so consistently
Time pieces become obsolete
And there are no excuses anymore.
Oh, there are bad days
When fog rolls in,
Or random, insignificant civilizations
Decide to proclaim war
Upon their own protective shells –
An eco-systemic, all chemicals in
Kind of war that pins natural resources
And technology
Against simple biology and physics.
There are bad days when children of the sun
Who suckle auras of its very beams
Become stifled and trampled
Beneath plastic rubbish and footware
In an unmercifully ignorant act.
But then again, there are the good times
Which ignite passion,
A brilliance so glorious
Rapid transformations become
Supernatural and unprecedented.
Good times that feed millions of
Conscious and unconscious
Biological matter the very substance
They require to exist.
When these delicate rays are so respected
And in balance that they provide
Sweet little Gaia an answer.
Oh, to be the sun.

Safety Net (day 1471)

ned Leave a comment

My safety net has developed holes,
It’s begun to sink with rising tides
That are bringing plastics and driftwood
Into the already discombobulated foray
Of pinks, greens, oranges, and dust.
My dental-floss fixes promote algae
In places I don’t want algae.

Is this growth?
Have I become burdened with my own safety
To the point I’m now over my neck
And flailing for life?
Is this harmonious with progress,
Or is this the definition of distraction?
I recognize I’m becoming dizzy.

Catered Driftwood (day 1383)

ned Leave a comment

I paused to reflect on waves
Splashing my reflecting peace.
I knew that twinkling waves
Were unspent thoughts
Still waiting for my fancy.
Yet here I was, clear of thought,
Amongst children thinking it funny
To throw plastic cups in the sea,
Unaware of volunteers
Cleaning her from bow to stern;
Amongst gulls pecking at my toes;
Amidst catered driftwood
Aligned in rows.
Yet my thought was still overwhelmed
By sweet shining sun:
Heavenly as she chose.
And I lay still here
Until memory aligned again with thought,
And the sea was ebb and flow.

Goodmorning, Mother Nature (day 745)

ned Leave a comment

Your delicate drops
That drip about my window
Waking my slumber
Shaking my cobwebs
Keep rhythm for me

My heart finds
Its speed again
While curious crawls
Across steaming
Bits of wooden jungle

Sun beckons
Warming exposed skin
Like uncurling leaves
Surviving off stray beams

Feathered fellows
Sing one another
Delightful passages
Freshly reciting
For days full of life

And you say to me
Goodmorning

Barb-Wired Fences (day 504)

ned Leave a comment

You sit there and wonder why I’ve changed
I’ve smelt the blood spilt of 6 million
I’ve watched the children scream alone
Searching in the daylight for eyes they cannot see
Holding hands with the pitiless marching them dead
Into the future they’ll never dream
I’ve crawled through the floors
Of ancient deathbeds
Smelling the descent of mankind
As it rummages through supremacy
Cracking along the edges of the wooden walls
Showing through in peeled paint
And barb-wired fences erected in blood
Rotting carcases of un-guilty men

Where we believe, for just a smiling minute
That the changes we make in our recycling program
Will resurrect those peace signs and red crosses
Will help the children smile louder
In piles in the corner stopping bullets with plastic

Who wins at this game?
Smile, we cannot run