Hey you, please stop for just five minutes of your time is all I need,
Gently sit yourself down on that chair of brown and olive green tweed.
Slowly closing your eyes on ten for your little journey is about to begin,
See that red door open it wide and step inside to explore therein.
What can you see, hear, feel, smell and touch but where are you?
Let every sense guide on this journey to a place you many once knew.
The green of the chair has dissolved into a forest where its life began,
A place to escape a world of grey to plastic women and lying madman.
To the left is an old oak tree with branches stretched in every direction,
He is the grandfather of this world and in charge of its protection.
In a hole around the centre sits an owl of white purer than any snow,
Singing songs and telling tales far older than any human would know.
Below your feet do not kick or pick the crowd of toadstools gathered,
They are gossips and liars so always leave their questions unanswered.
Wait what is that sound like fingers down the blackboard at school?
Oh it is a grey squirrel running down the oak’s bark acting the fool!
Follow in and out the trees until you can no longer see or hear him,
As a gentle breeze catches up with you and starts tickling every limb.
Walking on into the forest a clearing stands where a two rivers meet.
Take off your socks and shoes to let their waters calm your tired feet.
The sun starts to set with a sound like a church bell tolling for mass,
Day is now almost over and before nightfall you must whistle with grass.
It brings up the red door once more to return home away from here,
Close the door as you enter and open your eyes but never forget there.
Many trees of the forests are now ablaze with fires,
But the flames will never burn their leaves,
One by one Mother Nature painted with her brushes,
In every shade of red, yellow and orange.
Most get caught in a melancholy duel with the wind,
Sounding like a plucked harp’s many strings.
All leaves hope not hear the fatal G’s trap door open,
As automatically drops them to the ground.
Some leaves stand by on guard always in army green,
But never in wanton jealousy, hate or envy.
For these are the chosen ones to protect from Mr Frost,
With his chilling laughter turning all white.
For when he laughs the whole world shakes in terror,
Even human teeth chatter in fear of his name.
Others go to sleep to hide from his malevolent shrills,
Only to wake when the other leaves return.
The guardian trees are not alone in protecting the Earth,
Hidden are a secret air force ready to strike.
Sat high among the branches are birds in a chorus line,
Keeping their ears open for his opening aria.
So they can swoop down onto his long wrinkled fingers,
Pecking to make little holes through the skin.
And drown out his laughter with their harmonious song,
Filling his whitewashed landscapes with light.
Has the world changed or have we evolved into a new type of human being? Filled with jealous fear and hate as act as judge and jury not other’s wellbeing. No longer content to be an actor playing a part in the show that is Planet Earth. Killing others till they’re gone as turned director such is our sense of self-worth. Covering and autotuning the songs of Earth to sing in the key of human nature, and painting the world in fifty shades of grey as the brave new world’s maker.
Heavily manipulated images tell us this is what a 21st century human must be, and difference to flaws magnified as though we were some super race pedigree. Communication reduced down to words and pictures upon screens in our hands, as create fantasies of our lives, crying wolf for help and worshipping celebrity brands. Trying desperately to fit in the boxes so not alone in the wilderness to be mocked, trapping individuality forever in a room where few visited or on the door knocked.
Our foods tainted with chemicals, modified to grow in a uniform way or made in a lab, medicines causing side effects worse than the disease or perhaps prevented with a jab. With almost every new television show and movie is a re-make, take off, or sequel, where has our originality and creativity gone, may be it still sat on the artist’s easel? To be human has got quite lost in this brave new world we have now created for us, is it now time we stopped and learnt to think for ourselves before the final big hush.