Real Survival
¶ 1
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I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts –
Cropped, from palm fringed beaches
To a curtain call, of drop dead gorgeous sunsets
The sort that adorn, every glossy tourist brochure
Only these are for real
And the sun spills itself again, onto the euphoric horizon
As I cleave another chunk
And carefully drain, another smidgen, of life giving milk,
from the pod of hope –
Shared equally among us, emaciated souls
Hearts now entwined, in the same way
That once this great ocean, pulled in the tourists
Until the fateful day, it tugged too hard
¶ 2
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If we’d had the energy
If we’d had the joie de vivre, that existed,
before the ocean bottom let rip
If life, was as it was
Then we might have merrily played with the drained husks
Might have used them, as makeshift footballs
Palm trunks for goalposts
Fronds for flags
Starfish and clams, as fans –
But this is survival; real, battling desperation
And whatever Bryan, Nigel or ‘Arry might get to say, come May –
Ours is the true miracle
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