Squabbling War

Frustratingly, our leaders, the powers that be, never seem able to actually change anything.

Our world is little changed, in many ways, from the world I observed as a child.

Yes, there’s lots of noise about different initiatives.

There’s lots of noise about flagship campaigns affecting our infrastructure and services.

But nothing, in reality, really changes in our society – except for the usual story of cuts and resignations.

Despite our best efforts, there are still massive losers in our world.

Inequality is embarassingly obvious.

When one side are in power, they look after their own, and vice versa.

They don’t seize the initiative, for the greater good, and make long term, sensible plans.

This poem comes from the frustration that, despite any idealogical difference, we’d all agree – for example – that homelessnes is wrong.

We’d all agree that having a healthy, functioning Earth is more important than a high speed rail link.

I don’t know what you all think, but this shambles of tit for tat politics is shamefully embarassing, and I wish that those in charge would swallow pride and actually do something, rather than support the status quo as much as they can.

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Squabbling War

There’s a battle raging, apparently on our behalf, and we’re all involved.

Side vs side, one against the other – propaganda vs spin, media vs information.

Those in charge capitalise, make hay – the opposition would, and wish they could.

Nothing actually changes – regardless of who’s in charge, who holds advantage.

Meantime, folk’re made homeless every day.

They gain power via your vote, your opinion controlled through journalists’ craft.

Editorial lines, taken as golden source information, win minds and shape society.

All that’s on offer are polar opposites, each endorsed by one, single establishment.

The only options sit on that one spectrum, one scale, with us in the middle.

Meantime, folk’re beaten for being different.

We’re fed illusory choice – binary option replacement for influence.

Our leaders want power, for the feathering of nests, for their ideal.

None of us actually speak to them, none of us inform their opinions and choices.

Our leaders tune into their own radio, governed by advisors and their chosen individuals.

Meantime, folk die on the streets every day.

None of us are privy to the reality driving our leader’s decisions.

Considerations beyond our reckoning, beyond fathoming to us in our lives.

The opposite must be true; far removed from us, they cannot fathom our hardships.

We cannot know, bereft of the truth, that our views have any validity or relevance.

Meantime, some of us die obese, others die starving.

We have what we have, which is more than many, viewed with envy by some.

Dissent in some places remains criminalised, re-education awaits the rebel.

This horrifies us rightly, scares us, and helps us value what we do have.

And this makes us realise there is always space to improve, to go one better.

Meantime, species are wiped, Earth is poisoned, forests burn.

There seems to be no answer to our riddle, we’re stuck because of it.

We all agree what’s important – love, each other, safety.

We cannot agree the everyday matters that govern our lives.

We focus on what separates us, and not on what it is that brings us together.

Meantime, we have no time; we’ve run out squabbling.