head up and balance
balancing on the edge
the man on the ledge poised
head turning , maybe looking down but then ahead again, perhaps he’ll pull back now
he was just admiring the view
we were all on an edge
the edge
coffee table
I read and then put the book down (on the coffee table)
and the book is shut, bookmarked at a place I felt I could leave it
and go back
at will
when I choose
to the place I left off
and if only life was like that
where we could close it for a while then pick it up again at a good time, a convenient time
chapters end and begin
the feel good
some way or another the feel good thing is top of the list
it must happen
as soon as i open my eyes in the morning
i must feel good
not bad
not letting the darkness in but pushing it away
must be positive
slippers on feet clad
down stairs
planning food
how to feel good not bad
is this healthy, can my gut take it
drink, cleanse, eat food but I still want it to taste nice not just healthy
positive thoughts
foget the anger, let go,( it’ll be something else this time next year someone said)
nothing is that terrible to make you feel bad. no reason to frown , smile
yes smile , that helps
The Burden of Plastic
Lets hope that they clean up the plastic
Lets hope that the do-gooders, the positive thinkers
will pick up the endless debris, filling thin plastic bin liners with ugly, discarded, one-use water bottles
broken flip flops
coloured rope bits,chunks of mouldy yellowed foam
letting the sand, that was hidden, see the sky again.
Re-cycle it they say.
i ask myself but won’t it turn up again?
Wont it wash up again in its recycled form and lie amongst pebbles waiting for hippy mums, the well meaning dads to instruct their burdened children to pick it up and save the planet?
So we are all wearing coats made from recycled fishing nets.
We are drinking coconut milk lattes from biodegradable cups and believe we have secured the future of the human race.
We watch the salt water rush up onto the shore cover the golden sands then it retreats in pretty foamed lines
and we are cheered
almost smug.
That clean sand
not a squished,crumpled plastic container in sight.
We lie back in our recycled deck chairs and hope the fish won’t get stabbed by plastic forks again.
We hope that the turtles won’t ever die slowly again entangled in masses of endless net or that the silly gulls won’t fill their guts with random polythene scraps and ruin their digestive systems again.
We hope its all sorted.
world of words 