BOMBAY HOT POTATOE Poem

Exposure to luxury they’ll never have
Designer logo on that plastic bag
The bag a component of their makeshift home
Millions the same but always alone
Sony, Toshiba or JVC
Boxes from TV’s they’ll never see
Any slums construction made from discard
Who said it was easy who said it was hard
Sharing a bed made from a crate
Comfort at night or wood for the grate
Decisions made, better living or dead
As the child sits, mother plucking lice from his head
More flesh on the rat that’s taken it,s chance
Than the girl in the gutter who gave it no glance
The car, a symbol of the drivers prosperity
Speeds past unseeing, uncaring of this poverty
The signs of life are barely stronger than death
For every three there will be one less
Now are you moved by the expression etched in their faces
Or merely oblivious of these forgotten cases
So much for many is taken for granted
The TV, the car the Gucci glasses
We snub the beggar, we turn our backs
We never consider the harrowing facts
Man is man just flesh and blood
Emotions the same, from hate to love
We have a choice it’s not hard to make
Whether to give or simply take
There must be one day some common ground
As this uncompromising world turns round and round.


© Ray Gorringe 2008