Sifted news, we drink it in,
Turning back the pages again,
looking for a truth or nothing,
wondering who really is there
at the top, making honey pots
of money out of slaves and misery.
——
Is it true they’re starving?
stick thin legs on children,
drought bared fields, and
animal carcasses, littered,
rotting, stinking beneath
the stark pointed branches of
—-
dead leafless, fruitless trees,
a child stares into the camera
her thin drawn mother speaks
but where is this? Can it be?
That we as humans would
let our children live like these?
—-
Like fallen Autumn leaves,
they lie dying while some
like vultures eating at tables
laden with their choices,
feeding pampered pets
and stop the reporting.
—-
There are those who believe
they are called to bring help,
work to provide food and water
while archaic lying politicians self-
centeredly fight against the truth.
——
They choose like greedy gulls,
snapping up their treasures
and gobbling up their wealth,
Who am I to say? Are my choices
purposefully against poverty?
——-
And so the world goes round,
they hope,
but this time it will not,
the blinkers will come off,
when it hurts them.
and it will be too late.
