The World



the bird slams into the window

its little multi-coloured neck snaps

the woman next door screams

slams doors, pots and pans, and laughs hysterically

somewhere in an abattoir

men beat animals because they can


and the fear of living things

reverberates all round the world

cyclones form and whirl across the land

trailing floods and windy days behind

and I wonder why no one tells me anything

is it because my head is in the sand


people elevate themselves

up above they manipulate and scheme

changing rules and lives and values

it doesn’t matter what I think

no one is listening anyway

I cannot buy my way into the elite


someone somewhere takes advantage

violates the rights of one for fun

and someone else always says

serves you right for not being me

and a dog attached to a chain

dies slowly in the sun


I vote for you, you seem like me

or perhaps you’re merely the best of a bad lot

it doesn’t matter what happens to the trees

as long as jobs are jobs, and jobs are all we’ve got

we’ll all keep digging up dead dinosaurs

watching the freedom of the sun burning up



Copyright April 2017