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Alienation
I am a stranger in an alien land,
Always searching for eternal youth,
Controlled by an aristocracy with
Little time for honesty and truth.
The food banks are booming
Hardly a state of joy and glory
As the world prepares to celebrate
That age old Nativity Story.
A season of conspicuous Consumption,
A time of reflection and celebration
Or a time of struggles to survive for
A growing proportion of our nation.
Being black, unemployed or sick
Nowadays the modern day sin
As the homeless sleep rough and
Scavenge from the waste food bin.
The privileged will celebrate
The Holy Virgin Birth
And turn a blind eye to
The fast warming earth
The sick will die untreated in
The growing A and E queue
Only the thickness of a payslip
Stops that being me or you.
All over this rich nation
The comfortable will give thanks
And turn a seasonal blind eye
To queues at the food banks.
The Sovereign from the palace
Will give the annual address
Closely watched and monitored
By the billionaire owned free press.
The Sally Army Christmas, kitchen
Will feed some of the masses
And so another year of repression,
With false bonhomie, slowly passes.
I become more and more an alien
In this my own native born land
My world has changed completely
To one I can no longer understand.
Copyright ©
Terry Ireland
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