The Mountain

There's a mountain out There,
One, that no one would want to climb,
We, people of the world, all,
Have contributed to this crime.
Out there in the old blue yonder,
It stands on its island home,
Looking down at its base,
Of plastic products,it has grown.
Swirled together by ocean currents,
It grows by day by night,
There are some conservationists,
That fight hard to expose this plight.
But well, the corporate media,
Hides it on page ten,
Another day, another night,
The mountain grows again.
What next, plastic bird-life,
Coz they eat it till they choke,
What colour be their eggs,then,
What colour be their yolk.