If the world were made of plasticine
I would carve it up.
I would free Africa from the gaze of the west.
Children in Sierra Leone would not see pictures of western luxury.
But then I’d carry on dividing.
———————-
Perhaps a small island
For Mr Trump, very low lying.
And divide and divide,
And throw the bits about in space.
—————————-
Each island would become
A little moon,
Each on a collision trajectory?
——————–
I would live on the Moon of Penge.
Decorated with street art,
That we used to call graffiti.
Don’t mention gravity,
That could be a problem.
I would have to anchor the vegetables
On my allotment
To stop them floating off
Into deep space.
———————
If the world were made of plasticine
I would be
A very dangerous god.
schnark.home.blog 
You have a good point there. It’s the ultimate mind-made dystopia worrying about things you cannot change. There’s perhaps a greater sanity in focussing down on what you can personnally see and touch.
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Love this poem. Thank you.
Gwen.
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As you re-writ(!) it, I’ve just re-read it and still think it funny!
Gwen.
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I absolutely love ‘the moon of Penge’!
Gwen.
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you are very welcome to visit.
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