Poetry For The Plastic People Pt. 2 - Earth

A Plastic Person Consults Time

Earth:

You take our shit

And turn it

Into Gold

I have in my pockets

A pen,

Paper and glue

Passports

Guiding me through

Back to you

Where I’ll go

When I’m gone

Where I belong

Where I come from

A silent prayer

Within my soul

Somewhere inside

Away from all

A commune

Like in days of old:

If it all depends upon

The note you end it on

Earth, please

Take my shit

And turn it into gold

Poetry For The Plastic People

It's December, and I'm far away from my garden...time to catch up on some poems

Anti-Christ (New Page)

Re: the passing into susceptible obscurity

Of some slow slide down the knife

Sliced deep into the side of sleep

Hang on, hang on...Etymology, please.

Someone hand me a dictionary

For I remember a belt, my little red belt

With silver studs and aeroplanes

The very first gift that was given to me

To be whoever I turned out to be

And then suddenly
There came a cage

A gilded frame capturing all I felt,

Guilt and shame, chains to train my brain

To claim enjoyment, treat it as profane

ho ho ho

Have  you heard the rumour?

It’s so, so time to grow a sense of humour

For then they called ME antichrist

And dared to label ME insane

So, now it’s time to redress the damage

High time to reset the stage

How now to transform and direct

This exquisitely sublime rage

stay tuned for more Poetry For The Plastic People featuring A Plastic Person