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.
