Evening and Elvis Priestly
Saturday afternoon and it is raining
I flicked from channel to channel it is about war
and the endless suffering of the poor.
People living in cemeteries and children always
at some play thigh bones as sword, and other
live on a rubbish heap among rodent and flies
and they fight with seagulls for scraps of food
and the children get sick and die
because they cannot see a doctor and if they could
could not pay the medicine needed;
and the war goes on
a perpetual war machine that never stops.
An abject thought is all this for nothing
– I blame the rain-
people born for no reason at all? No, it cannot be
like this young eyes meet young eyes
“Love me tender love me true…”
Mothers love their children and never let them go.
The perpetual war machine revs up is it coming
our way, have we paid the piper?
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