Poetry – Making Cash

Making Cash

There’s a man who makes a lot of cash

Selling the planet

For the midnight bash;

Supplying the bombs

To the men

Who don’t care,

To the ones

That the rest of us

Try to beware.

But all the cash

In the world

Won’t buy

A dodo.

They had it all

And they just let it go.

Opher 26th March 2016

Making Cash

I was watching the Night Manager – the John Le Carre story about the arms dealer. It was making me angry. There are a lot of people out there who would do anything for cash.

You can buy a hit-man, an elephant tusk, or a rhino horn from an unscrupulous thug. The torturers, despots and tyrants buy their tools and weapons from dealers. Britain is an arms-dealer.  They are not all shady characters who hide in the background.

I have just returned from a voyage to South America. It brought home to me all over again the destruction of the environment, the massive slaughter of wild-life, the huge expanding numbers of people, the inequality and poverty and the wasteland we are making of the planet.

Nations plunder their resources. Jungles are chopped, strip mines gouged, seas polluted. Fish are scooped out of the sea using radar and huge trawls in industrial numbers. Nothing is sacred.

What once was plentiful is now scarce.

The whole world is being designed to be run as a tourist theme park.

The rich live in their four million dollar apartments and the poor scratch a living from the corrugated iron shacks along the river bank.

It could have been so different.

Who cares about a sloth? Who gives a monkeys?

4 thoughts on “Poetry – Making Cash

  1. I entirely agree.

    I am an eternal optimist but I really don’t see the world’s financial juggernaut having the will or ability, to turn back from the brink.

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