to the virus that is so successfully messing up the structure of human culture on the planet.
I wrote the following poem just as lockdowns were about to start (latre March 2020).
I believe that viruses are not classified as “life” in their own right, so that’s why you are finding this one here.
We’re binge-watching Netflix, popcorn, can of Coke.
Easy to spot Wally now he’s alone on his strolls.
We are doing our duty – every girl and her bloke;
we’ve invented a game counting sheets in loo rolls.
But Wally used calculus and he’s calculating.
All this isolation doesn’t develop immunity.
If there’s no one infected, then the bugs will be waiting.
When at last we emerge, they’ll have retained their impunity.
Wally believes, if we all stay inside,
we’re just delaying the problem, and Wally feels sure;
instead of smoothing the curve, and making it wide,
the spike’ll follow fiscal collapse if it don’t come before.
So Wally’s out stretching his immune reactions;
making them strong – but he’s wrong: such a shame.
He’s a hazard to others with his interactions.
So don’t be a wally, if Wally isn’t your name.
footnote to mobile site . . . This note appears in a sidebar on computers.
I really don’t know why I haven’t drawn more of them.
Maybe I will . . . anyway here is a collection of non-organic and/or non-living stuff