Our world – the society we’ve created – has many aspects, and many of us argue over which ones are good, and which ones are bad.
Perhaps, in any discourse, the search for common ground is really important to build for the future.
I hope common ground can be found about the subject of this poem; agreement that enables action.
Many ‘great things’ are possible in our world, enabled by the societies, and the links between them, that have been built.
Downsides exist – and these are commonly known.
Some people live without a home.
Secure incomes; or an income of any sort.
Enough food to go round.
Support when needed.
Looking across our world, globally, there are examples that are well known and obvious.
Domestically, in Britain, the same is true.
A global society that is able to fly into space, accelerate particles to collide and find out what happens, hold apparently global sporting festivals and competitions – and let the downsides persist – seems at times to have the wrong priorities.
A global society that enable some members to have more wealth than could ever be used, and leave others bereft of simple securities, also seems to have priorities mixed up.
There’s nothing wrong with exploration, science or sport – and there’s nothing inherently wrong with wealth.
The problem is inequality, and the gross inequality that characterises our societies.
This poem is about that inequality; inspired by a popular cartoon I’ve seen on social media.
Ten Biscuits
Ten people find themselves seated
At a round table, in a non descript room:
One of the ten has a pack of ten biscuits;
That person has been ordered to share the biscuits with their fellow room mates.
Taking one biscuit, the biscuit controller explains
That this, singular tenth of the pack is plenty for the remaining nine occupants to share.
Furthermore, the first to pledge life long, undying, total commitment
To the controller, will receive half of it.
The next a quarter, the next an eighth.
And so on.
Caution, is urged:
‘Your neighbour may well have a smaller share of biscuit than yourself;
Perhaps your neighbour may become jealous, desperate and hanker after your crumbs –
Sorry – share of the total wealth of the room.
Watch out for the hungry glare; arm yourself.
Trust no one, for they all, ultimately, only want more biscuit.
And they will fight hard for some of what’s yours’.
The controller removes themselves from the room,
Their half-biscuit deputy placed on guard.
