Scenario:

 

 

A Local  Seashore:

 

Mounds of  tar on a tide-washed shore,
Plastic flotsam -  empty cans of beer.
Rubber tyres - an oven door
Man's contempt is very clear.
Rotting timber - heaps of weed,
Glistening shards of broken glass.
In this hell, things try to feed,
Unaware of the human class.
Scum topped surf, slaps onto land,
Offering up its cloak of dirt.
Burying deep the stones and sand,
Leaving death below, inert.
 
Nobody listens and fewer care,
Enough to change this gruesome sight
Crippled wildlife with eyes that stare
Helpless in its daily plight
We are guilty, make no mistake
Lands were once blessed with a clean sea
Now after pollution and greed's sake
No longer a place we want to be
 
Part of an ocean, nearby coast or sea,
Used as a carrier of human waste.
Who's to blame? sheer insanity,
Unending unless we act with haste.
Germs which swiftly multiply,
As does  pollution on our shores.
Soon no green fields, blue sea or sky,
Just piles of filth up to our doors.

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