A time of Change (written in the style of Simon Armitage)

This is the news -
Not to be confused with reality,
But rather some sci-fi blockbuster or nightmare flick
Before the hero puts it all to rights -
Two dreadful flights into two uprights,
Pillars of Mammon, alters for the dead to die on.

A coffin, shaped with wings,
Crashed into an office where the receptionist was instantly vapourised,
And the fireball that took off her eyelashes before peeling away her face
Was part of a giant conspiracy to start World War Three,
Or maybe direct attention from a failing economy
Or perhaps put a pipeline across Afghanistan with the sole purpose of pumping out liquid gold.

Still, conspiracies as they go are never as strange as real life,
And whilst we mock those waiting for the Truth to emerge we quite forget that our Truth,
Though in front of our nose,
Will never be seen, usually because it’s terribly obscene.

There: let’s say it, that 2000 gone is nothing compared to millions dead
Snuffed out by wars, disease and starvation,
Whose sole monuments to life will be patchy graves in the middle of desolation,
Whose only hopes lay in a cynical world’s exploitation of them either as sweat-shop labour
Or as the recipient of that ultimate degradation,
Charity.

Let’s say it again, now blazon it on high, that the price for all our wealth
And our rich world’s grief
Are millions who anonymously die,
And that we, who beat our chests and cry know NOTHING of the real end of dreams,
Because at least our dreams have a beginning – whilst those who live in permanent grey
Can only see the world from day to day as one drab scene through which they trudge
At the bottom end of the feeding chain,
The life of the eternal drudge …

Of course, we’ve tried! – but tried what ?
Tried to be shot of nagging guilt, with monuments we have built to our generosity
Revealed as shams, a World Bank, a United Nations, gravy train meetings at frequent stations
Of the already portly caught on camera and shortly to be shown on Crime Watch U.K (if only),
Their cover blown, a criminal fraternity spending eternity going from table to table
Discussing the problems of the poor -
Whilst the poor scream of death at the door -

This, you see, is the flaw, that no one actually, really CARES
(Until two aeroplanes catch us unawares).

To be continued – maybe……….

Sept. 2002