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

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

A Wizard’s Wand

Hands of steel

Fingers, sinews of silver

Tentacles long and strong

Like a wizard’s wand

Probing and prodding

Pushing down and across

Pressure on, then release

Finding that ouch zone


Climbing the spinal ladder

Disc’s four, three, two

Chin on the chest

Opening the neck gaps further

The gifted silver rod pokes hard

Pressing on the point

A sharp pain hits

Behind the left eye


The knifing ache eases off

There’s acknowledgement

That was the spot

Then a few neck twists

Strengthening stretches

A session finished

Feeling improvement

Return again, in a few days


Ivor Steven (c)