Collage
A poem about the sometimes-stressful stimulation offered by the events of the planet.
Pieces melting all together,
Cityscapes and stormy weather.
Talking heads in every corner.
One is dead, one’s the mourner.
Eyes appearing out of nowhere,
Leave the kids alone at Day-Care.
Economy’s in such a mess,
Each day brings a different stress.
Crowded streets, a billion faces,
Employer whips while worker races,
Against a clock that isn’t there.
Missed a deadline . . . it isn’t fair.
Bathroom plumbing’s sprung a leak,
Junior’s finally learned to speak.
But in the scheme of things, it doesn’t matter,
Facebook’s where we do our chatter.
No one knows just where they’re going.
Can’t fly today – winds are blowing.
No time to rest, can’t be slack,
The weekend brings a heart attack.
Can’t eat that, causes hypertension.
Urges that we just can’t mention.
No time to give.
No time to live.
War planes in the sky above,
Show us that we just don’t love.
Species die and forest’s burn.
Climate change – still haven’t learned,
About plastic waste and killing whales,
Nor the viruses that cause what ails.
Digital signs from here to hell –
It’s quite a story that they tell.
Action movies, “Eat at Joe’s”,
Power douches irrigate your nose.
Electric cars fill your garage,
Appears the world’s a big collage.
About the Creator
John Oliver Smith
Baby, son, brother, child, student, collector, farmer, photographer, player, uncle, coach, husband, student, writer, teacher, father, science guy, fan, coach, grandfather, comedian, traveler, chef, story-teller, driver, regular guy!!
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