So many years and tears.
So many ways to fool ourselves that
somehow there will be a miracle;
we'll wake one morning and things will change.

We gaze at grey and tell ourselves
that we see pink.
Convince ourselves that today
a sign of improvement exists.

Shoring up against despair;
salt water seeping between cracks.
Hope and sand eroding
until there is nowhere left to stand.

No more shore - just a line
that cuts
and lets the saline drip
into the wounds
we feel
as our world ends.

Nothing good comes from sterile and pure
The best things in life spring up from manure.

Always the same since the birth of time
when the first politician oozed out of the slime.

This question I ponder while they still exist -
if evolution's true why were politicians missed?

Laure was a lion

   poem writers filled with hate.

Laure met a poem writer

   that's the poet Laureate.

From space you can see it
it's really that huge
a structure of cosmic dimensions,
and yet it was built before JCB
or other earth moving pretensions.


These days we may feel
we cannot make change
with mankind pitted brother 'gainst brother.
But The Great Wall of China
shows what we can do
by just putting one brick on another.

Taken from Alternative Poetry Books - Yellow edition by Michele Brenton/banana the poet - published by Endaxi Press