Mug Abe Lincoln
The supermarket's superIs lost.
No money can overcome
The cost.
The shelves are free
Of weight,
The warehouses are free
Of freight.
The farms
Have nothing growing;
No mooing,
No mowing.
The greenery
Has deserted
The land
Has reverted
To sand and sun -
That pair of arids,
Those Hell-made
Marrieds.
Nature has nothing
To do with this disaster;
It is man-created
By the master:
Mugabe
In his palace:
Manufacturing
Malice.
While the scared
And the privileged
Stay,
Wedged
In inertia,
The reporting
Goes on.
The double claims of distorting
Have taken over
From the real pain;
Truth's grains disappearing
Faster than the grain.
As the deaths
And inflation soar,
Mrs Mugabe takes a plane to do her weekly shop -
In Singapore.
10:29, Tue. 19/08/2008.
Poetry by Mark J. Wood
Read 698 times
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Written on 2008-08-19 at 14:02
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