Rachel Peake Mar 31

Little piece of plastic
That you dropped
Little piece of plastic
That’s all it was

Little piece of plastic
Sitting in the gutter
Then when it rains
It gets swept down the drain

Little piece of plastic
Pouring out a pipe
Little piece of plastic
Cast out into the world

Little piece of plastic
Floating in the sea
Where will currents take it?
Wait and see

Little piece of plastic
Mounting the waves
Little piece of plastic
Braving the wind

Little piece of plastic
Absorbing the sun
Little piece of plastic
Coating in mud

Little piece of plastic
Crumbling away
Breaking to grains
Shredding to dust

Little piece of plastic
In microscopic particles
Little piece of plastic
Has high toxicity

Little piece of plastic
Spreading through the ocean
Swallowed by a whale
Eaten by some fish

Little piece of plastic
Now in our food chain
Little piece of plastic
Flowing through our veins

Little piece of plastic
That you dropped
Little piece of plastic
That’s all it was...

Even the tiniest piece of plastic matters! Don't litter and recycle as much as possible!

plastic party cups
at the charity event
for Syrian kids

The moon bestowed the sweetest simper.
Withal around the world would whimper.
In the fairest eyes, though oceans deep,
The mocking beauty an oil spill keeps

If mountain forrowed fingers shake ,
May cause a fragile mind to quake
And spin. Though true the world should do,
With thoughts with plastic threaded through


Ron Feb 25

Empty faces
Plastic smiles
Shallow minds
Follow thoughtless
Through the crowd

David John Mowers Dec 2016



"At least to all the other things living whom have thought, -like mammals."

Imagine that an alien race has come to Earth....

What would you, "fix," about it?



blue Oct 2016

you can’t run away from me.
i’m the fate you can’t escape.

one day in a smaller city and you
forget that where you came from was like
a small town too.

small cities with big houses,
and rich folks with richer spouses–

is this the american dream?
because i never dreamed of this.
not really.

all the lights are dim here.
streetlights, table lamps, and stars.
they all are just bright enough to overthrow
darkness, but not bright
enough to give anyone hope.

but the houses are nice,
and everyone drives an energy efficient car,
and it’s all quite nice
if you look you don’t look
the curtains.

one day in a smaller city and you can’t
forget that you are small too.

if you wanna find love then you know where the city is.
Mims Oct 2016

the plastic girls are
Always having friends
Never needing rules

Erin Suurkoivu Oct 2016


Another space arrives. The newborn cries.
And the destiny determined:
Oven or matchstick.

Descendant of both; inheritor of another:
A machine that dreams itself into being,
Dragging its sleeping subjects after it.

Sustenance of nightmares, the food of what
God is, blood the earth pumps forth.
The plastic legacy is siphoned off,

Its artifacts cheap jewellery:
Enamel glinting white and turquoise.
Flimsy chains that never last,

And yet last forever, the paint flaking off.
So too does the rust on this delicate orchid.
It is an oracle of poisons.


The city burns in its incandescence.
The indelible halo
Of a lime-green candelabra

Makes light of midnight. Our slumber is
Punctured by gunshots and the drone of the

Not a foot but a juggernaut,
Pandora’s box,
Sowing the seeds of your distress.

Fallout marks the potent epoch.
The neon octopus spews it back,
Invisible print on the murderous air.

Where water drinks
No diving bell can bear
The pressure of such fuchsia.

The first poem in my second collection of poetry, Camera Obscura, available at Lulu.com and Amazon.
andromeda Sep 2016

you're trying to focus on the image
but your eye only catches the dust
floating a foot in front of it
you're either focusing too hard
or not focusing at all
your eyes are broken camera lenses
and your brain is melting plastic
you can't function
and you're pieces are falling out

Poetic T Jul 2016

The immobile carcasses of plastic babies
litter my child's floor, never seeking there
birth mother as she was a statue of recycled
imagery. Of illegitimate children holding this
abortion of weaved construction that sings hollow
words of  "mommy, mommy,

But they look within me, in cold eyes they stare in
to nothingness heeding the words of wanting
but their cries diminish to a silent lingering buzz.
Barely heard but I white noise succumbs to dreams
of a lonely child in stress, but recycled voice spoke.

I kicked the abortion of sickening similarity and
wonder back as the form of a child, baby, I have just
kicked. But still it weeps for a mother that is as
fake as the calls its synthetically calls upon a child.

Inanimate objects that stir in repetition, I will be long
gone when you will still whimper in a landfill,
calling in static, batteries last moments and you
still call out "mommy, mommy, no one answers your call.

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