He held tightly to the statement of his wealth
groaning as he saw the fulsome figures falling,
wondering how he’d keep his balding head up
as he flounders int he dust of only multi-millions.
She held tightly to the small wad of new notes,
freshly received from the ATM and felt thrilled
to have earned so much money, enough for rent,
food, that school trip and perhaps for electricity.
He hungrily looked in the window, watched them
serving meals on clean plates, smelling the eggs,
bacon and feeling in his pocket the cold hard
edges of coins, too small, too few, for their food.
She cast a glance up to heaven, grateful to find
cheap meat, beyond its date, good enough for
her thinning children to be able to eat tonight,
taking a bag of sprouting potatoes, she’ll eat too.
She calls out for her Gucci bags and perfume,
her Gabanna dress hung in silk folds over her
perfectly surgically sculptured slim body, no
not worrying about money, the servants do it all.
A mother collects goat droppings as gold,
and sets them before her starving children,
others cook leaves, stripping the trees to
stay another day of death stalking their lives.
Billions it cost and all just to own the bird
that talks of matters best left unsaid, there
instead of giving the poor a chance, he’s
egged on to feed the greed within himself.
He works in government and knows only
the hard working wealthy folk around him,
cannot imagine eating bad food, searching
hotel waste and never having their choices.
A cancer is working through the weary world,
causing lasting pain, loss, hatred and fear,
teaching a few how to take more and more of
their unfair share and hide the starving in