Last night I was down in my Air Raid shelter all night with my brick, thinking about the busy human world above me and everything that goes on in it –
love at first sight
buying, buying, buying, buying
traffic on roads and motorways and seas and skies, cars, lorries, bikes, boats, planes, the rich and the not-so-rich speeding to where they want to be to get what they want to get while the poor endure or die
and I thought it’s all a load of shite, isn’t it? A big shitey web of shite.
I came back upstairs early this morning and opened the back door and the world STINKS, it stinks of the shite being spread on the fields down the road, the stinking fat farmer spreading his stinking SHITE and for what? To feed the greedy, more, more, more, me, me, me.
I want to be a tree.
A tree is a tree is a tree.
It doesn’t pretend to be anything else.