some poems

No Medicine For The Poor

When she's sitting in her wheelchair
because she cannot stand.
He'll be drinking Gin & Tonic
in a house that's rather grand.

When her nerves, so uncontrollable,
cause her arms and legs to shake.
He'll be going for a little spin,
having picnics by the lake.

As her pain becomes unbearable,
like a life-engulfing flame.
He's walking through the countryside
shooting 12-bore at the game.

She finds it hard to eat her food,
so her son feeds her instead.
He finds it hard to cook and clean,
but the maids make sure he's fed.

The doctors say there is no cure,
but drugs will give respite.
But the NHS can't give to all
because their budget's tight.

So whilst the woman suffers
because she can't afford to pay.
The owner of the company
makes a million pounds a day.

If you've a decent human soul,
you'd ask the question, 'Why?'
But the answer's all around you,
just look closely with your eye.

The man has a malignancy,
growing from the smallest seed.
It destroys all common decency,
we call it simply, Greed!