I’ve been thinking and reflecting on the subject of “time” quite a lot lately….. maybe I’ve been in a state convalescing for too long….. but today, after my exercise group this morning, I’m going to head off to the surf beach for a swim….. it’ll be my first dip 20 months…… Yeah !!….. Below is my poem I wrote back in March, when I was finally given the Doctor’s all-clear to go to America in April …..
Hello dear readers, I’m re-posting this poem, as a slightly revised edition, with the last stanza having changed around…. I thought the original was a bit sloppy….
My headache woke me early this morning, and I rolled over to look at my plastic clock, to see it was 4.00 am, so here I am typing away on my plastic keyboard, thinking about our synthetic world……
Plastic Man, Plastic People
There’s a plastic man in charge, of you
Politically, he twitter’s us the news
There was a racist called Hitler in 1942
And everyone thought he was crazy too
They didn’t take him seriously
Nor listen to his rants of jealousy
‘Til he pulled the pin, on humanity’s hand grenade
Pure white supremacy, his raving crusade
From his chants, “Pow”, World War II
And, “death to the Jews”
There’s a plastic man in charge, who’s rude
Financially he’s just a plastic money dude
Soon to be impeached for his glad-wrapped lies
We’re not to worry about his plastic eyes
That only see plastic smoke in the skies
Nor his yellow teeth that eat plastic mounds
Spitting out live human’s upon his plastic grounds
And the plastic people, still listen to his plastic sounds
And to think, Ray Davies of “The Kinks” wrote this wonderfully inventive song 50 years ago, way back in 1969….
“Plastic Man”, lyrics by “The Kinks” (Ray Davies)
“A man lives at the corner of the street,
And his neighbours think he’s helpful and he’s sweet,
‘Cause he never swears and he always shakes you by the hand,
But no one knows he really is a plastic man.He’s got plastic heart, plastic teeth and toes,
(Yeah, he’s plastic man)
He’s got plastic knees and a perfect plastic nose.
(Yeah, he’s plastic man)
He’s got plastic lips that hide his plastic teeth and gums,
And plastic legs that reach up to his plastic bum.
(Plastic bum)Plastic man got no brain,
Plastic man don’t feel no pain,
Plastic people look the same,
Yeah, yeah, yeah.Kick his shin or tread on his face,
Pull his nose all over the place,
He can’t disfigure, or disgrace,
Plastic man (plastic man).
He’s got plastic flowers growing up the walls,
He eats plastic food with a plastic knife and fork,
He likes plastic cups and saucers ’cause they never break,
And he likes to lick his gravy off a plastic plate.
Plastic man got no brain,
Plastic man don’t feel no pain,
Plastic people look the same,
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Kick his shin or tread on his face,
Pull his nose all over the place,
He can’t disfigure, or disgrace,
Plastic man (plastic man).
He’s got a plastic wife who wears a plastic mac,
(Yeah, he’s plastic man)
And his children wanna be plastic like their dad,
(Yeah, he’s plastic man)
He’s got a phony smile that makes you think he understands,
But no one ever gets the truth from plastic man (plastic man)
Again, today I managed to go out to the ‘Box Office Cafe’, for a coffee and a cake, and I sat adjacent to a friendly couple, Glen & Alison, who were relatively new to the area and the Cafe. They were happy to have a chat, and we talked about musicians, poetry(Haiku’s), and the wondrous “Doctor Who”. Alison was thoroughly engrossed with reading my Haiku Collection, and my poetry booklet “Tullawalla, Waterlogged Boots”, and believe it or not, Glen was also an Industrial Chemist, yes sometimes, coincidental meetings are meant to be….. Anyhow I told them, I had this little idea about a Christmas card poem… I think their genuine friendliness encouraged me to write this poem, and I hope you all feel the warmth and power of Christmas, through my words here,… a piece from this heart of mine…….
Now, It’s My Turn
The first week of December
Decades ago, what did she say?
Today I’m struggling to remember
“Don’t forget Ivor ! ”
“Now, It’s your turn, to do the Christmas cards”
I’ve lost my crown, I’m almost home
This time the task will be hard
But last night I was dreaming
Of her ‘everlasting smile’
And how through all of her suffering
She was always a brave angel with style
So despite my persistent head pain
There’s really no other excuses
It’s time to be the mailman again
To read my poem ‘everlasting smile’, you may view by clicking >>Here
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 