PVC’d

Take one piece of plastic, just one fragment,

Stretch it so it’s longer, wider, thin,

Saran-wrap the life that you are leading,

Protected from invaders, nought let in.

Cling it onto self and tightly bind you,

Around, around, around, with overlaps,

Nothing from the outside will now taint you,

Filmed against all troubles and mishaps.

No seepage, spillage, no contamination,

Insulated from all life, preserved so much,

Now ask yourself if breathing is an option,

Covered head to toe, devoid of touch.

Feel it where it films in all its winding,

Around, around, around, to laminate,

Unhearing ears, unseeing eyes, unbreathing,

Distorting face and features, plastic fate.

Gasps ungasped, inhale, inhale, it’s useless,

Pants unpanted, panic rising fast,

Underwater world of drowning mastic,

Soldered, sealed by self, in moulded cast.

Uncommon bonds, hermetic, manufactured,

Around, around, around, to isolate,

Boxed up when all breathing has abated,

Bubble-wrapped in melted pellets, lie and wait.

Pallets ready, stacked outside the warehouse,

Conveyor-belted parcels, undiseased,

Thrown aboard for final distribution,

PVC’d, protected, but deceased.

The Gatekeeper

The door is ajar, oh so slightly,

But the gatekeeper guards it well.

Is it push or pull to gain access?

Only the gatekeeper can tell.

 

Are there treasures within to be defended?

Do these riches belong to himself? or

Secured for another, what lies inside?

Only the gatekeeper can tell.

 

Will pushing reveal his story?

Hidden, a story of self? or

Teasing with tempting persuasion?

Only the gatekeeper can tell.

 

Is pulling at door the answer?

In effort to see so much wealth?

Perhaps it’s revolving, a spinning collusion?

Only the gatekeeper can tell.

 

Connections within and without there,

A maze that leads to deep well,

A thread to return to safe haven,

Only the gatekeeper can tell

 

If sentinel shields with fierce fury,

Custodial protection against peril.

Is guarding the gate the price of his fate?

Only the gatekeeper can tell.

A Jungled Scream

19 (1)

Forests scream in agony.

Roots cry into the earth.

Quivering limbs,

Deathly throes,

Life

Perished,

Petrified,

Before it grows.

18

Trapped.

This burning flame

Of man’s

Desire

Consumes

By greed.

This jungled world,

Power sets on fire.

10

 

 

Disclaimer!  (These photos are the copyright of others’ but unknown to me. Some are from national newspapers and others from private individuals. I will gladly allocate credit if claimed.)

With thanks to Mark’s Gallery for these pictures he posted, depicting bush fires currently rampant in Australia. He kindly obliged with photos of Fire after I had joked that I was going to write poems working my way through all the elements, having done some on Air and Water. These pictures, although of actual events, elicited in me an entirely different sort of response. My apologies if some of them are depressing! But some of them are loving and sensual. So a good balance I would say, eh?