we were sold a lie

we were sold a lie – they told us:
technology will make your lives easier

but instead we forgot how to communicate
and we forgot how to love
and we forgot how to be compassionate

we just kept thinking of ourselves
and all that we could order and consume
and all the places we could Instagram
and all the opinions we could share

and like
and hate
and invent

until the lie became normalised
and the fake became reality

we couldn’t comprehend what they had done
or how our greed had destroyed our lives
how alike we had become
how sad we all were

and it was too late to change
the lie had been cast
our feet were in concrete
we couldn’t move forward or back

we could only push buttons

two children

two children run hand in hand
upon a scrap of council land
their podgy parents sit and smoke
post social media video jokes

at the touch of a screen the lives of those
admired, despised and some they know

yes, they love their smartphones
they’ve made the toy strewn rough cut grass zone
their domain, their terraced castle grounds
where the little rascals babble with laughter

an old man watches on from his window
he’s the ‘paedo’ that was always a weirdo

who now never gets to go out
in fear of the shouts and taunts from the louts
whose two children run hand in hand
upon the scrap of council land

that separates them from the busy road
where the quarry lorries unload

a toxic cargo of asthma inducing invisible snow
to blight the already blighted glow
of futures held in the hands of others
parents, weirdos, councils, climate changers

the big wheeler dealers that keep things turning
the sun might be shining today, but tomorrow

the two children will reap the GMO hay fever
of meadows sown but heatwaves razed
yet, by heck, let us not get carried away!
let’s sit back and enjoy the two children play

hand in hand, laughing, running
as all children would no doubt want to do

Forest Fires

She is nearing the point of no return str/oke no going back
her plumpish puppy flesh is tanned and sooo delectable
bikini breasts firming up to the fondled imagination
red oversized Lolita shades hiding those furtive eyes

She is extra virgin olive skin oiled with wandering hands
growing up fast ‘n’ waiting for her fumbled few moments
what’s it gonna be like? she asks herself daily, hourly
whilst pouting and picking over her shy little sister’s words

She is Ma and Pa’s protectively bookended boredom lives
they keep her social media contacts under full surveillance
staking out and spot checking suitors for suitable potentiality
they worry for the sake of worrying which only brings more worry

She is practising her kissing in front of every reflective surface
but don’t worry girl, you know you are a pretty young thing
and the boys all want to love you now before it gets too late
have you however whilst you’re young and fresh to taste

She is just not fucking gonna be like her parents that’s all
with their cellulite thighs and saggy loosened skins but oh,
the ghastly inevitability that she will one day resemble them
it butchers her body and numbs her febrile innocent mind

His lips meet the sweaty curves of her belly
His tongue licks her salty perspiration tears
His hands remove the skimpy excuses for modesty
His hardness scares the light from her skies

And somewhere,
gasping,
a forest fire
burns out of control

PicMonkey Collage2