Sometimes I must look to the birds beauty in flight
refresh in distraction from our grounded plight
a flourish of feathers lightens my heart
all I need is the skies work of art.
Someone kicked the socket and the land went still
all and everything went hush electrics gas distilled
awash of nothing buzzing the tick of life moved on
flowers bloomed unplugged neon motions gone.
Environmentalism, sold alongside the rest, not as a replacement, but in addition to all the plastic preferred by the ever-more vacuous populous. Sold by the same machine that sells bleach and weedkiller. Green is a fashion statement soon to be piled high at the dump, alongside the rest of the used up trends. Yet, a trend can take root, a phase can use it’s sense to prevail, to stay, a trend can spread like ivy on the ugly concrete, stifling the old, suffocating and snuffing the old senseless way. A trend can become normal, the old shown ridiculous, extinct, we can still save it all if we think.
Black folded paper alight from the tree
a gaggle of rooks wind blown origami.
Driving between the countryside’s burgeoning banks, I get the feeling from the ground that we are not getting any more permanent than we have ever been to this world. We cling to this idea of permanency, we long for longevity. We build to be solid, of brick, of concrete and steel, yet all that we made would be eaten up without a mark left in no time at all. We are distressed by all that grows and all that decays, all that changes day by day. To mother earth a million turns is a flash, wiped clean, reset and renewed.
Leaves are playing in the street again, playing chicken with the cars, to be fair, none of them have been hit yet, oops, I spoke to soon, there goes Peter, trapped in a grill.
Newly grey walls stink of fresh paint, the wipe clean floor still tacky. The slick new door lock tumbles with a crisp snick. I am escorted into the metal chair. The police leave me, locked in, another chair and a table for company. To the right a large dark window. A man on the other side looks straight at me, checks his hair. A second man looks past me, looks at the first guy and shakes his head. One way glass is particular.