Breaking the poor to pay the rich.

There, in the place of privilege and parliament,

she held the flame high. And showed clearly the

darkness that assaults the poor and divided David 

Cameron’s almost managing ’til their larders are 

emptied of succour and their frightful futures fixed

with a hasty handful of wealth cultivated wishes. 

——-

Although this time the poor are paying for the rich,

their fingers in frayed pockets for rich folks’ care,

their homes will go while bloated pockets only pay

for their own pleasures and privileges, homes in

exotic islands, money in expat banks. All are

taking the bread out of the mouths of little babes.

———-

The light will always shine in the darkness and 

the truth will always out.  Turning the lives of the

wealthy patrons and persons of high living into

questions;

and levelling up will become a torrid

affair where polls are lost and a new party born.

Tears

I bit into my chocolate, and the thoughts began to percolate.

I tasted the milkiness and bittersweetness and sighed and

cried inside my body – where the need’s nourishment not this

punishment as the weak, hungry child in my mind’s eye dies.

—–

I do not mean to deride the pride we have in our great nation,

as we cut back the giving so that our living can survive the

incessant drive of disease and wasted chances in warped

circumstances yet still the wasting child in my mind’s eye dies.  

——-

I once spoke with someone who had no bread, his children

not fed, and, “I’’m outside the human race, my family thin of 

face. The swollen bellies that you see on your tellies are 

emotional damaging, physically challenging and I have no

——

way to feed, I cannot sow seed that greed has taken on land

that is stolen.” It is a mystery that in our history we repeat it

over and over again. The poor are pushed aside while lying

governments hide their routes to wealth which scour out

the pots of poverty. 

Tyranny

He yawns

and suborns.

He snores

breaks the laws.

Watching the world waits and wonders,

will it ever end or will he make them bend

again and again to suit his rules, and calls

them fools, as he laughs and sneers behind

their listening ears. The homeless are in the

gutter because that is his bread and butter. 

The poor queue for philanthropist’s good food 

and that is understood. For, it is up down and

even top down that only works if friends are

paid and money made first, he has such an

unimaginable thirst for power, control and 

aces the questions by absence and controls

the press by pretences and faces no 

consequences. 

COP26 and the voice of the poor!

Their home was bleak and emptied of all the webs of life that hold us together,

seated on the dirt floor they drifted in their thoughts while holding hands,

their bulging bellies swollen with starvation were moving beyond the human

need of hunger and care,   to a place where they lay down and let the life

ebb from them, hoping they would be lifted to a place of peace and plenty.

===

A few folk were trying to raise the remaining childer but they themselves,

were failing now as the sickness spread and stuck to their fevered frames;

leaving more of the little ones to fend for themselves, in a world that has

forgotten how to care, choosing eyes closed to the crumbling children’s lives

as they opt to stop their financial aid but not the brutal interest on deadly debts.

===

The weakened economies of world race to forge new pathways, and every

one misses those who live on the edge of a precipice of pain and hunger.

The small sons and daughters orphaned by the pandemic do not have 

any choices and their frail bodies, wearied by working long hours for a

pittance, would cry if they have a voice, ‘Help us with your billions and

—-

instead of flying into space give us enough for a meal, clean water

and a place to sleep safely.  Help us you who fund political parties

whose propaganda enables an agenda of propagating poisonous lies,

that wealth is to be garnered instead of food and money to be grown

in burgeoning bank balances in place of medicines for those without.

The Choice and No Choice

The child shook and cried – as his emaciated body fought the knowledge

of a fever that choked the breath of his father and captured his mother‘s 

before oxygen came that can’t be given, because it is held in a place where 

the faces of the well smile as they selfishly return to a normality that is 

their’s but not his.

=====

Not far distant a farmer loads his cart for marketing his hard worked

goods to sell in a place where covid is thriving and so thinking people 

have learned to stay at home. And now his goods will rot and his own

wife and children will die from starvation while somewhere a nation

heals but not his.

=====

At a port there are ships that wait   for a call that will free them to 

travel home to their loved ones, but for now they wait, alone and 

lonely, deprived of human contact that comforts. Their thoughts 

turn to suicide and depression, while not far vaccinated sailors 

sail easily but not them.

======

The world has a centre which turns with us, and together we are

all held in thrall by its core giving us life and gravity; but human

hearts refuse to hear that we belong as one people, 

one planet,

one earth, 

one hope 

but instead we have those who choose to

take and those who can’t.

=======

Some choose which hat, they choose which putrid water.

Some opt for a take away, they opt for what is thrown away.

Some prefer designer clothes and some wear passed on rags.

Some live in clean and tidy homes and others on the street.

A choice is a voice from opulence and should give others

a chance to have voices and make choices.