Sick

 

Makes me sick

to see plates sitting empty

a place at the table

laid out ready and waiting

but no one will be eating

the food has run out

not due to famine or drought

but a bunch of ministers looking out

for their own, in times of doubt

 

Makes me sick

but no stomach contents to spew

table is set, but no food there to chew

MPs gorge themselves

on mountains of takeaway food

would it be rude

to ask for more?

is this the world we live in?

a Dickensian workhouse for the poor

 

Makes me sick, I find it astounding

lining pockets whilst bellies sit growling

they should hang their heads

but they don't see the shame

in making profit from death in their names

when the poor need a hand

they send floor scrapings instead

no caviar or lobster here

just a ration of bread

 

Makes me sick

when lives are put at risk

whilst they banquet on 3-star restaurant grub

our children are given a mere carrot stub

And as seats sit empty

as too many bellies went empty

who will rebuild this land of plenty?

 

Makes me sick, takes my breathe away

They see no problem, no disarray

in a hundred grand takeaway

paid for by taxpayers’ hands

But if we hold out our palms

asking for some in return

their heads they do turn

It’s too much to spare

here’s half a pear

now scurry along

the night is young

and we have a dinner date

here’s some crumbs for your plate

 

 

Thanks For Reading,

Peace, Love and Poetry

Kyle.