15: Slumdogs & Billionaires


How can it be in an age of great wealth
People lose meaning, menial labours,
Denying unique dignity thro’ work,
Colocating with garbage; three in ten
Screw’d fast into lice-scuttling, smallpox slums,
Low calorie lives under tin-foil rooves,
Where only drive-by shootings break the news.
Unseen by those who flick thro’ Now TV,
Condemning innocentile under-fives
To never feel the teenage supercool,
Or take dogs walking in a winter’s woods,
To fall in love, there dwell in common trust,
No whiff of these for those who squirm thro’ filth;
Unsanitary habitations where
Drinkwater’s dirty, shelters ramshackle,
No teachers, no doctors, no Mardi Gras
Eviction’s threat fretting each waking day,
In flood the drugs, cycles of addiction
Sent spiralling thro every cirque of Hell
Ravaged by megacity sicknesses,
When neither mothers nor fathers can spare
Loss of wages for hospital visits
& so they summon God, ‘save our baby!’
Who dies that night in soft, malnourish’d arms.

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