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16th September Song (another poem for the hungry)

(I have been having this dream lately. The same one, but I cannot, for the life of me, recall what it’s about.)

The money we thrust so easily into the mouth of a machine- soda, candy, chips, a car-wash, cigarettes, coffee, anything.

The human mouth of billions sealed in a death sentence, a tiny bird wedged in the pipes, a young deer in the road, unsure of where to go, startled.

We needn’t concern ourselves with these creatures. Life is a candle.

The suffering is too great to fathom, the grief. We all suffer in this life, hunger’s just another form.

At times the pressure is too great and the beast howls a song for me. I feel the wrench of regret and stop, turn to the consumption machine, facing it, I stiffly push my crumpled nourishment into the slot.

(I remember the dream now. I am this machine and- or am I the sustenance the world seeks? It was dark.)


© 2009 mrp/thepoetryman
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Comments

  1. ChimpSeptember 17, 2009 at 7:59 AM

    When reading your poems I am always reminded of this:
    "Haiti: Mud cakes become staple diet as cost of food soars beyond a family's reach" at http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/jul/29/food.internationalaidanddevelopment

    ReplyDelete
  2. thepoetrymanSeptember 17, 2009 at 11:55 AM

    Chimp,
    Mud cakes? How dare you! I thought they would at least rate a fruit cake.

    ReplyDelete
  3. ElizabethSeptember 18, 2009 at 1:59 AM

    Touching. Thank you, TPM.

    ReplyDelete
  4. thepoetrymanSeptember 18, 2009 at 5:07 PM

    Most welcome, Elizabeth. Glad it touched you.

    ReplyDelete

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