this poem belongs to you,
as the public domain,
has an open door,
millions of fantasy phrases,
invading every dusty corner,
always more than before,
while some people write easy,
desperate housewives write sleazy,
following the seagulls and tide,
the greats are found in dusty books,
us? we are all online,
keeping up with the flow, keeping onside,
but then the critics appear,
with their snotty noses and ideas,
siphoning every phrase on show,
“that’s no good , there’s no rhyme,
and you grammar is worse than our health”
free speech means what it says on the tin,
I’m free to write so let me begin,
with a little moon dust and a touch of fairy dust,
sprinkled upon english words,
I’ve not read much literature lately,
but I’m still going to make myself heard,
so writing in two languages,
means the same poem goes into different directions,
sprinkling parmesan cheese on my english poem,
makes the writing pool clear for the perfect reflection,
whilst being romantic will get in the top ten,
I do dabble in love poems now and then,
but I’m not a sell out, you know who I love,
I prefer to dig deeper than all of the above,
and words are tingling on the tongue,
and being naive means being young,
now being over forty and I’ve seen so much more,
where the whole world is more rotten than before,

you need to see through the grime,
history is buried beneath the organised crime,
of being human and being alive,
and destroying and infecting every lush green inch,
of this splendid great greenhouse,
where we need to protect every ant or mouse,
we seem to believe that saving,
the top-heavy mammals , we will save ourselves,
but if we kill the smallest insect,
the food chain is broken , extinction beckons,
so in words we show you about,
clapping ants and the dancing cats,
the mosquitoes bite and the bees hum,
but without these annoying bastards,
life would be so much less fun,
don’t ask me why a fly flies,
or why a worm has to invade your perfect apple,
so let’s all live in harmony and in poetry,
there is enough space for everyone.


and so the words flow,
like the rivers once did,
before they built the dams,
or before the water dried up,
as humans are sucking like a parasite,
its fangs dug deep into the flesh of the earth,
releasing an infection that’s more bubonic,
and obviously a million times worse.

so write my friends, describe your world,
in India, in Indonesia, or Turkey,
before man or god shows its finally hand,
and all beauty known meets its enemy, destruction,
describe every pond, river and ocean,
before the plastic bags covers our world,
hiding sunlight from the mystic waters below,
and all coral reefs and even plankton,
will wilt and die and lose its glow,
so recycle your words like you should recycle your waste,
buy products in harmony of this world,
don’t go for pretty or food with added taste,
because its sure to be manipulated in same way.

so sprinkle some more words,
on lined paper or on notepad,
show the world you have a heart,
show your congregation that you’re mad,
the temples in Cambodia will not last,
if it was not for the people who care,
and the sikh temples in India,
and the ancient Roman ruins in Campania,

with words and pictures,
we will show you places,
where the evil man has forgotten,
let’s show the people power ,
demand that our world,
is far more important,
than spread or shares or profits,
you cannot write a poem,
about Wall Street, what rhymes with MIBtel,
maybe something like “financial hell”,
all the bankers are bonkers,
and the insurance claimed your life away,
another brick has lost its grip,
in the Colosseum, Stonehenge or paradise,
let’s write a poem to show the world,
this place was once whole and a lot more nice.

from the hanging gardens of Babylon,
to the pyramids in Egypt,
Aztec ruins in the Americas,
and the thousand castles in this world,
how much diversity was there once,
before we knew this modern concrete jungle,
now we are just clones of clones,
and our balls have lost their creative jingle.

so this poem belongs to you,
because it’s in the public domain,
maybe it has too much nonsense and far too long,
I’m just showing you, how things have become so insane,
and the last cherry on this sunday cake,
it’s down to us to encase it in icing,
let’s spend more time ,saving the earth,
than being negative, bickering and infighting,
let us all read each others work,
and pat all of ourselves on the back,
because this poem is written for all of you,
and this is the last line, at last!

© D.Hobson April 2014