WORRYING TIMES
Oh what to do,Since prices shot up.
Can't afford to pay for food,
Most of us would like to try it.
Even though it's a forced diet,
If I tried to grease the wheels.
Not enough money to buy a meal,
To stay alive all is left, doctor's pills.
Divided between my three meals,
They no longer need to be plated.
Wish this hunger could be sated,
Think my stomach lost the will.
Not quick enough to find road kill,
Least the air we breathe is free.
If they could they'd tax it to the hilt,
Just like they have the economy.
Had a thought sounds naughty,
Wonder if seagulls taste salty.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 139 times
Written on 2022-10-27 at 01:05
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