Plasticiser: a poem on plastic poo and other delights

PLASTICISER

there’s plastic in the landfill
plastic in the seas
plastic flowers and robot bees
artificial christmas trees
plastic in our food and drink
plasticisers in the milk
plastic plates and plastic spoons
microplastics in our poo
plastic filling up our view
plastic clothes and plastic bricks
I suppose there must be plastic sick
plastic piling up so thick
in chunks and also finely ground
bound into the very soil
nations fight to control the oil
watch the human race fall from grace
as the media smiles with a plastic face
this plastic case may be our doom
enclosing life in a plastic tomb
or we could plasticise our minds
and find a way to harmonise
wrap up this plastic wrap debate
abate our use take action now
delaminate our daily lives
divert our planetary fate
before it is too late

©️Janey Colbourne 2018

Textual Intercourse

Textual Intercourse

You open up a well of words in me
Enrich my vocabulary
You touch me with your text
Turn me on with your
Delightful discourse
I want to dive into your dictionary
Dance across your pages
With my eyes
Devour you
Read between your lines

Tell me your story
Whisper words into my ear
You are such a page turner
I want to read you in bed all night
This steamy romance novel
Is so hot I don’t want to stop
Let’s keep writing sequels
For I want this in so many parts
It will never end

©️Janey Colbourne 2018

Glastonbury 1997. Don’t go there. #spokenword

Glastonbury festival 1997 was the muddiest year on record until 2016. You don’t want to go there. Really you don’t. Especially not with a certain daft young woman. Unless you’re game for a laugh.

However, you might want to go to Panjenix Acoustic Club on a Wednesday evening at The Forts Arms, Clayton-le-Moors, Lancashire, for a warm welcome and a spot on the open mic, if that is your kind of thing.

Performance recorded 24 October 2018, PAC, Forts Arms

©️Janey Colbourne 2018

Redundancy Notice

Redundancy Notice

I’m sorry to inform you,
your services are no longer required.
The news is now so farcical,
you hardly stand out from the crowd.
We do a double take each day,
then shake our heads and say,
‘I thought this was a joke at first.’
So satire, I must let you know
that, with regret, and thanks of course,
we’ll have to let you go.

©️Janey Colbourne 2018

‘I don’t know how to teach writing. This is the best I can do.’

I don’t know how to teach writing. This is the best I can do.

I don’t know how to teach writing.
Read a thousand books,
watch the news, engage your rage, 
listen to those spoken word poets that blow your mind,
break open the armour of fear, 
remember you once knew play was meaningful.
It is worth your time.
And you are worthy to take that time.
Then, pick up your pen.

Your first attempts will be shit, possibly,
or you may suddenly release your genius from the lamp,
but as long as those words are on fire, don’t stop,
they will carry you,
Until your mind becomes a gushing torrent,
a glacier melt,
roaring and relentless.

You will learn to read your own spider scrawl,
as your pen cannot dance fast enough
to the booming of your brain.
Wherever you go, all you want to do is write,
walking down the street, on the train,
as you stagger home at night,
reciting in your head,
must not forget this thread.

From all the moments touching souls,
every shade of feeling flows.
No pain can take your power,
only feed it as
you cast into your crucible
to be transformed, 
each glance, each word, each churning hurt.
And resolution comes,
as in the telling you rewrite the meaning of our lives,
rewrite the future,
weaving hope in bleeding ink,
to blaze a trail across the hearts of all who look
for solace, and for words that say,
I see you, and yes
  I feel it too.

©️Janey Colbourne 2018

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Alchemy: a poem

Alchemy

This is what they mean by turning lead into gold.
All the pain, the anger, doubt and fear.
All the suffering that weighed me down.
I looked them in the eye.
My pen is my sword
and with it I pinned them to the page.
The page is my cauldron
where I stir until what comes out
is transformed, purified, reborn.
As I bring it forth
its light is so bright,
it is blinding.

©️Janey Colbourne 2018

Long Distance Love

Long Distance Love

If I could bottle up this thunder
in my heart and post it to you,
all those unspoken words would 
tumble out and you would see.
If I could lace my fingers into yours,
we could speak in braille.
If I could lie my head against your skin
and inhale, you could not fail to know.
If I could touch my lips upon your mouth,
and speak the language of eternity,
no words would be necessary.

©️Janey Colbourne 2018