Plastic Man, Plastic People

My headache woke me early this morning, and I rolled over to look at my plastic clock, to see it was 4.00 am, so here I am typing away on my plastic keyboard, thinking about our synthetic world……

Plastic Man, Plastic People


There’s a plastic man in charge, of you

Politically, he twitter’s us the news

There was a racist called Hitler in 1942

And everyone thought he was crazy too

They didn’t take him seriously

Nor listen to his rants of jealousy

‘Til he pulled the pin, on humanity’s hand grenade

Pure white supremacy, his raving crusade

From his chants, “Pow”, World War II

And, “death to the Jews”


There’s a plastic man in charge, who’s rude

Financially he’s just a plastic money dude

Soon to be impeached for his glad-wrapped lies

We’re not to worry about his plastic eyes

That only see plastic smoke in the skies

Nor his yellow teeth that eat plastic mounds

Spitting out live human’s upon his plastic grounds

And the plastic people, still listen to his plastic sounds


And to think, Ray Davies of “The Kinks” wrote this wonderfully inventive song 50 years ago,  way back in 1969….

“Plastic Man”, lyrics by “The Kinks” (Ray Davies) 

“A man lives at the corner of the street,
And his neighbours think he’s helpful and he’s sweet,
‘Cause he never swears and he always shakes you by the hand,
But no one knows he really is a plastic man.He’s got plastic heart, plastic teeth and toes,
(Yeah, he’s plastic man)
He’s got plastic knees and a perfect plastic nose.
(Yeah, he’s plastic man)
He’s got plastic lips that hide his plastic teeth and gums,
And plastic legs that reach up to his plastic bum.
(Plastic bum)Plastic man got no brain,
Plastic man don’t feel no pain,
Plastic people look the same,
Yeah, yeah, yeah.Kick his shin or tread on his face,
Pull his nose all over the place,
He can’t disfigure, or disgrace,
Plastic man (plastic man).

He’s got plastic flowers growing up the walls,
He eats plastic food with a plastic knife and fork,
He likes plastic cups and saucers ’cause they never break,
And he likes to lick his gravy off a plastic plate.

Plastic man got no brain,
Plastic man don’t feel no pain,
Plastic people look the same,
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Kick his shin or tread on his face,
Pull his nose all over the place,
He can’t disfigure, or disgrace,
Plastic man (plastic man).

He’s got a plastic wife who wears a plastic mac,
(Yeah, he’s plastic man)
And his children wanna be plastic like their dad,
(Yeah, he’s plastic man)
He’s got a phony smile that makes you think he understands,
But no one ever gets the truth from plastic man (plastic man)

Plastic man (plastic man).”


Ivor Steven (c)  Dec 2019

Australian Reindeer

Australian Reindeer


I’m waiting in the queue

To buy my concession postage stamps

Finally, at the counter

I present my Australian Post Card

Yet another plastic piece to scan

“Sorry” said the the office clerk

“But you been archived”

My mind goes clunk

“What does that mean”

I said to the clerk

“But I’m here, mostly alive”

“You’ll have to call Australia Post”

Oh well, away I go, to phone-up


I’m waiting in the queue

On hold for twenty minutes

Finally, “hello sir, can I help you”

After giving him my personal details

I explain my situation

That the computer said

“I’ve been archived”

The operator said, “That’s strange. Please wait”

After a few minutes, he speaks

“Hello Ivor” (he knows my name!)

“It seems you’ve been deleted from the system”

Now, my old-timer’s brain

Grinds to a panic halt

Not only only have I been archived

But now I’m deleted

Am I digitally dead

Has my cyberspace cloud flown south

After a few minutes, the operator again speaks

“Don’t worry Ivor”

I swipe the robotic dribble from my chin

“If you use your same card number”

“And apply for for a renewal”

“You’ll be re-installed into our system”

Re-installed, that sounds positive

So off I trudge

Back to the Post Office

To fill in the application form

Here I am again

I’m waiting in the queue

So this is Christmas!



Ivor Steven (c)  Dec 2019




Now, It’s My Turn

Again, today I managed to go out to the ‘Box Office Cafe’, for a coffee and a cake, and I sat adjacent to a friendly couple, Glen & Alison, who were relatively new to the area and the Cafe. They were happy to have a chat, and we talked about musicians, poetry(Haiku’s), and the wondrous “Doctor Who”. Alison was thoroughly engrossed with reading my Haiku Collection, and my poetry booklet “Tullawalla, Waterlogged Boots”, and believe it or not, Glen was also an Industrial Chemist, yes sometimes, coincidental meetings are meant to be….. Anyhow I told them, I had this little idea about a Christmas card poem… I think their genuine friendliness encouraged me to write this poem, and I hope you all feel the warmth and power of Christmas, through my words here,… a piece from this heart of mine…….

Now, It’s My Turn

The first week of December

Decades ago, what did she say?

Today I’m struggling to remember

“Don’t forget Ivor ! ”

“Now, It’s your turn, to do the Christmas cards”

I’ve lost my crown, I’m almost home

This time the task will be hard

But last night I was dreaming

Of hereverlasting smile’

And how through all of her suffering

She was always a brave angel with style

So despite my persistent head pain

There’s really no other excuses

It’s time to be the mailman again


To read my poem ‘everlasting smile’, you may view by clicking >>Here

Ivor Steven (c) Dec 2019

The Sky Is Blue: Haiku Collection

I’m not a prolific writer of Haiku’s. Actually flicking through my poem file’s, out of the hundreds upon hundreds of poems, I have only written “50” Haiku’s. There is no reason as to why so few, because I do enjoy the concise format of the Haiku, they flow well for me, and I think most of them come out ok….. Well here I go, Ivor’s complete collection of  Haiku’s……….

Sky Blue

I’m covered in blue

The morning sky clears my eyes

Sea-air fills my lungs



Today’s deep sky blue
Warming my chest and soul too
Curing cough and flu


True, it’s a dog’s life
Who would kill a lonely cat
Peace to you and you



Spring’s about to start

Your winter withered my heart

Birds sing until dark



Chinese courtyard sounds

Guzheng music gently strums

Beijing alley hums



I walk past today

Remembering yesterday

Gone is tomorrow


Today my earth blooms

Yesterday is forgotten

Tomorrow I weep



A strong coastal wind

Blowing sand across bare dunes

Vegetation going


Red Crown

Red the morning sky

Day lily my courtyard Queen

Garden summer crown


The Sun

The fiery sun burns

Bitumen melts underfoot

Tomatoes glow red


The Forest

Tunnel grows wider

Walking out of the forest

The light glows brighter



A hive awaits me

My Philadelphia tree

Branches will rejoice


I Climb

Step by step I climb

Steadily walking my path

Time is flying fast


A Window Voice

I cannot hear the bird

Singing in the window tree

Birds are the free voice


A Flower Gone

In a sea of lights

She, an unpicked bloom, wilted

Young and fresh, now gone



Cloud level seven

A step closer to heaven

My time to reflect


Green’s my spring colour

Sparkle on my angel’s wings

Green makes my heart sing



I’m a proud member

A player in the world team

Now I’ve left the tribe



Cloudless happy days

Sunlight kisses everything

Feeling warm within


Wall of Thorns

My bed of roses

Is scaling a wall of thorns



After The Wine

Beyond the wine bar

Radiant sunset begins

Tired eyes failed to see


My Cafe

A coffee and cake

Moorarbool Valley Cafe

Rustic country scene


Dead and Alive


Old cypress tree dies

Driest Autumn recorded

A sign of the times


My green fernery

Watered garden signature

She lovingly thrives



The voiceless man spoke

An old poet recited

His words clear and strong

Bon Voyage

A Bon voyage lunch

Barwon Edge Boathouse Cafe

Siblings celebrate

Our River

A true love runs deep

Our river flowed over rocks

Stones soften to sand

Family History 
Boxes of photos
Memory lane in my hands
Decades of stories

Field of Dreams

Life is sweet and smooth
Eating strawberries and cream
Full of tasty dreams

Winter Rain

Chilling winter rains

Heavy fat drops of coldness

Spread by icy winds

We Lost The Sea 

Bridges of dreams crossed

The ocean and river spanned

Waters of love found


Eating cream doughnuts

And peanut butter with jam

Hots dogs in mustard

Trees, We Apologise To Thee

Ancient trees of life

Anoint colour to the sky

Cast shadows aground


I, hugging a tree

I, apologise to thee

I, seek mindful peace

Hail And Sun

Hail slaps the pavement

Bitumen puddles shimmer

Winter sun bursts through


Green leafy layers

Sheltering out of the cold

Winter fernery

The Flower Show

A hall full of blooms

The scene, a sea of colour

Flowering perfume

Veneer Bruises

All surfaces bruise

Not all bruises can be seen

Pain permeates all

Cold Rain

Time’s, I played in rain

Today I worked in the cold

Wet and shivering

Autumn’s fat rain drops

Have lost their warmth and softness

Winter’s hard as ice

Life’s Blooms

Summer in full bloom

Beds of petals for our hearts

Life’s fragrant adieu

Time At Work

One week of hard work

Feeling aged beyond my time

Aching body’s cross


Her lone silhouette

Forever etched in the stars

Shadows of my heart


The size of our soul
Inside the beat of our heart
That is what matters

Wake Up

Today birds didn’t sing

Tonight, the moon is silent

Tomorrow needs love

Welcome To My Web

Spiders web of love

Glossy skeletons ignored

Entrapment awaits

A Glow

The sky isn’t all grey

Behind dark clouds there’s a glow

Where light grows brighter

My Word Vault 

All my soulful words

Lay within your open vaults

Where my dreams began

I Was Given A Red Rose  

Dreams of a red rose

Sleep-in Saturday morning

The world waits for more


Morning blues ebb through

The window of last year’s stains

Light opens the door

As The Crow Fly’s

From grey tree branches

In sunlit sky, black crow sings

To all passing bye


Let vistas of light
Enrapture the lives of those
Who have been captured

Feet and Excuses



Truly nature’s treat

Standing amongst forest trees

Earth’s caressing feet



Life isn’t excuses

The word does not have uses

Let our trees feet dance

Fierce Fires

Forests are ablaze

Raging fires destroying homes

Native fauna, flee

Tree Care

Trees will grow again

Mother nature, cares that way

It’s time, we must too


Moon Tree

No! Don’t go up there

The old tree house is haunted

Full moon night, glares

Children’s Halloween costumes

Knock! Knock! Scary pranks, for treats




Ivor Steven (c) Dec 2019

People Ain’t No Good



People Ain’t No Good


We don’t need human’s

Look at us, standing tall and proud

Why do you pollute our sky?

Why do you stain our land?


We don’t need human’s

Look at us. walk and fly

Why do you catch and cage us?

Why do you shot us and make our babies cry?


We don’t need human’s

Look at us, swim and dive

We don’t need human’s

Look at us, eye to eye, and don’t lie

Why do you poison our earth’s waters?

Why are you committing suicide?


Ivor Steven (c)  Dec 2019


Tap, tap, feel the head pain again

The drizzling beat of dreamless rain

Falling on a blue pillow, wet and stained

The misty clouds of a dreamless brain


Rivers of visions, once crystal clear

Now flooded fields of dreamless fears

Cascading mirrors, once reflective and sheer

Now broken pools of dreamless tears



Ivor Steven (c)  Dec 2019

I’m Flat, Feeling Very Medium

Hello dear readers, as you may know, I’ve been struggling with continual (non-stop) headaches for 6 weeks, and it’s time for me to take a break from blogging. I’ll probably keep posting a few poems, when I can, but I’m finding the present situation almost unbearable… Hopefully my absence from commenting on all your wonderful articles, will be only for a few weeks.

I’m Flat, Feeling Very Medium

Mid afternoon and I’m late

Time to go out, for a coffee break

I’m escaping my sheltering haven

Avoiding that all too familiar hospital cavern


I order my drink, and I receive a paper trail

But I’m feeling my headaches, are still on trial

As the coffee mirrors my state of being

“Steven. 1 x Flat White Medium”


Here I am eating a lamington sponge cake

Listening to a melancholy Tom Waits

And I’m thinking, when will these bad-ass days

Ever be surpassed by more dignified displays

Ivor Steven (c) Dec 2019