Poetry With A Mission



...a thought provoking poetical exercise.

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Wealth On Trial

Seems most pop stars and rock stars waste their money shamelessly,
Whilst people die of starvation, struggle with poverty.
Seems most movie stars too — or other celebrities — waste their money,
Whilst people suffer and die, drown in abject poverty.

How can any with such wealth waste it so indulgently,
Buying this or that, doing this or that, so needlessly.
Such self-centered indulgence when so many are in need,
Is surely a crime in itself — gross callousness indeed.

Take those outrageous parties, and those other excesses,
Like mansions worth millions that indifference expresses.
Or those private jets and yachts, as equally expensive,
Which these folk won’t go without so that many more may live.

Yes, some do give a million or two, and good on them, I say,
But they’re wasting millions more — thus, others still suffer, pass away.
That million or two they do give saves some lives, eases some poverty,
But the rest they waste means others still die, or still face misery.

Such folk are misusing wealth, acting irresponsibly,
Whilst poverty’s increasing and more are dying needlessly.
It’s bad enough at any time to act so thoughtlessly,
But when things are getting worse, it’s acting appallingly.

Poverty’s a dreadful thing, no one should have to go through,
Nor should any starve to death while others great wealth accrue.
Starvation could be halted, and poverty halted too,
If every wealthy person said, “One for me, two for you.”

Seems to me, “It’s ten for me, and none for you,” or at best
“I’ll make some token gestures, and then flaunt and waste the rest.”
Sure it may be their money, but morally it’s not right
Wasting what could save more lives, ease more poverty, shine a light.

By Lance Landall





By Degree

Surely you wouldn’t take a life, not deliberately,
No, not knowingly, willingly, nor calculatedly?
Surely you wouldn’t kill someone, let them die painfully,
Miserably, horribly, lingeringly, callously?

But tell me, friend, might you, would you, have you indirectly,
Thoughtlessly, carelessly, insensitively, ignorantly?
That is, via selfishly using, wasting, withholding money,
Money needed to keep folk from starving, dying daily.

And surely you wouldn’t aid poverty, not consciously,
Not intentionally, voluntarily, readily?
But could it be, friend, that you’re aiding such indirectly,
Thoughtlessly, carelessly, insensitively, ignorantly?

“It’s my money,” you say. Well, no one’s disputing that, friend,
But isn’t it sad that folk die while pleasures we defend?
Yes, thrills, luxuries, wants, even demands, material things,
Things that excite, but that indirectly, death for many brings.

Or if not death, prolonged poverty, daily misery
That could be halted, lessened greatly, very easily.
"How?" you say. Via all that money that’s spent so wastefully,
Unnecessarily, recklessly, self indulgently.

Money that annually runs into many billions,
Depriving of food and life the starving, dying millions.
Money that could bring changes for the better, everywhere,
Yes, at home or abroad, but only when we choose to care.

Care enough, that is, to respond self sacrificially,
Rather than saying, “I can do as I wish, it’s my money.”
After all, who would put money before humanity?
Surely only a criminal, or us perhaps, by degree.

By Lance Landall




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