Musings from my kitchen table by Marita O’Flanagan

Musings from my kitchen table
In a new world that’s unstable.
Why put the blame on me
Indulgent in my fantasy.
With IT tools beyond my station
To make the world a powerful nation
We laugh and play on our machines
With hideous frequency and wilder dreams.By God we’ll always have our way
With plastic breasts and Botox fixtures
Ending up like dolly mixtures
Chemical laced food, hormone injections
We’ll surely reach beyond perfection!
Our pretty pouts are but a game
To make us all look just the same.
That quirky nose will have to go
I really daren’t look a show.
We’re ‘Stepford Wives’ all in a row.
To boring sameness that’s the norm
To be accepted to conform!
With golden locks and blackened roots
Us and chemicals in cahoots.

We gorge upon our plates of plenty
The others left, their plates are empty.
With swollen bellies the babies cried
Without a scrap of food inside.
Our famine days have we forgotten
Our fields of stench – potatoes rotten
In world of plenty, we take our slot
How quick it is we have forgot.
We fume “The English took our land”
Now with world hunger we’ve had a hand.
Content to let them die like flies
No conscience – we avert our eyes.

The earth is ours – superior beasts
Nature left outside the feast.
Fishes cough up plastic booty
To destroy almost becomes ‘our duty’.
Birds lie limp upon our shore
Their sweet song will be heard no more
Drenched in oil their bodies tremble
Their powerful wings no longer nimble!
Animals scurry across our path
While we destroy their habitat.
The sun it shines with stronger light
While ‘deeper tans’ are our delight.

But now the earth puts up a fight
With floods, ice melts and oceans’ might
It takes a child to point it out
To make us think, she has to shout
“Shame, ye have destroyed our earth.
A monster has been brought to birth.”
It took a child with face of thunder
To talk us through our massive blunder.

The virus – should we look surprised?
We could have caused our own demise!
We ponder how the virus came
Could we have ourselves to blame?
Now we’re locked in isolation
Maybe victims of our own creation.

Originally from Ennis, Co. Clare, I live in Csstlerea, Co. Roscommon. I write poetry and paint. Self-published poetry book called “Imprint on Water” for Temple St. Children Hospital. I also create personalised cards, with an emphasis on calligraphy.

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