Washing Our Worries Onto Others
The blushing sun conceals A dirty secret. So in our quest for BEAUTY We shield our glowing frames From its spiteful rays; Basting our bodies
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
The blushing sun conceals A dirty secret. So in our quest for BEAUTY We shield our glowing frames From its spiteful rays; Basting our bodies
Fade In: People wearing masks Ride their bicycles through A skyline of exhaust fumes and Dirty, blackened smoke. Their lungs irritated By the invisible particles
Beneath the pristine peaks and snow-capped mounds, Lie records of our past and future selves. A precious commodity lying dormant, Safe from prying eyes
Within the temperate climes of wooded land, Disturbances are part of nature’s flow; But as the rising heat gets out of hand, The fingerprints of
Across the dusty plains of southwest lands, An empty dish lies buried in the sands; With taps turned off to nature’s moist supply, As climates
As echoes of past conflicts start to fade, The dissipating fog lays bare what’s planned; Whilst treaties dance upon a blunted blade, With bloodied fist
Within the salt-encrusted lakes of time, Are secret bubbles formed by primal cast; We excavate these drops from faded brine, To understand the structure of
Beneath the rock lies liquid gold, With pressures set and bills to fold; But prospectors should be aware, Removal must be done with care.
Plant a tree Go Barbados and plant A palm tree Turn the water off Drink booze Take a shower with Someone else Take a shower
A valley in the sands of time, Beyond a place, a paradigm; A confluence, a new frontier, Where science breaks the bonds of fear.