POETRY BY ROD MARSDEN


RED CROSS TELEVISION

By Rod Marsden © 1999


Into the void ran the possibilities,

Into the void to be crushed

And reshaped into reality.

It was magic

But on a sustainable level.

Collective madness

For the sane at heart.

News at six,

Science fiction at eleven-thirty,

Zero suicide at twelve,

This time 'round.



The meaning behind Red Cross Television is pretty simple and straight forward. It is basically the need we have for good science fiction.



FOR THE FUTURE

BY ROD MARSDEN � 2003
FOR THE FUTURE

BY ROD MARSDEN � 2003

Dedicated to Suzuki, that Japanese Canadian scientist and dreamer

Protestants rave

But who will save the future?

Catholics multiply, by and by,

But who will save the future?


Hindus pray

But what do they say about the future?

Taoists on the right track

But what do they lack for the future?

We own the land, with no plan,

For the future.

Suzuki warns, he's quite forlorn,

For the fish no more

To be caught no more

Along the seashore

In the future.



Who will save and protect

Instead of adding to the neglect

For the future?



Greenies care, but do you dare

For the future?

Love our planet,

God damn it!

She loves you.



The meaning here hopefully is clear. We treat the Earth like a whore and it is about time we stopped doing so. Also, for no good reason, we are overpopulating the planet and, incidentally, I want to be able to fish when I am 65. So let's stop being greedy, keep the numbers down, and the pollution in check.



LONG AGO

A Dedication to H. G. Wells

BY ROD MARSDEN � 1999



Morning glowed its brilliance and life,

The fledgling youth of the sun and stars,

Proud Venus and magnificent Mars,

Walked straight and tall, listening to the call

Of the clank and clatter of war

In place of the distant whisper of peace.



The planet, wounded by atomic fire, rose up

And fell a hundred fold times.

Then there was nothing, nothing at all.



Slowly, a new beginning emerged;

Life, precious life, in its myriad forms,

Was seen once more,

Cruising its chosen domains,

Refreshed by the constant rains,

And fed by the growth apparent

On the rich, red soil.



Then creatures of tooth and claw

Battled for something more

Only to risk Armageddon

And the end of all that had come before.



And so it came about,

That creatures from a desolate, scarlet world

Now look upon our green and not so distant planet

With envious eyes.



This is another one of my salutes to science fiction. My Granddad, who came from England and settled in Australia with his wife after WW1, loved the old masters such as H. G. Wells.


Poison

By ROD MARSDEN � 2004



Poison in the soil,

Poison in the toil,

Poison on the boil,

Of chemicals on tap,

Homeboys spewing rap,

Religion brewing sap,

Unmindful of what we've done,

In coffins we'll soon nap.

Alchemy gone wrong,

Gold for a song.

Ha! You can't eat gold.


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