Austerity Blues

This poem deals with the games that politicians play with the general public, where hard work and meritocricy literally it seems count for nothing, while grasping venality obviously does.

By Stanley Collymore

 

I didn’t ask to be born and don’t recall ever being questioned if

I really wanted to be here; but I am! And having arrived and

with this earthly abode, for how long is quite unclear,

involuntarily my home, I’ve done everything that

was expected of me and, quite literally even

if I say so myself, a darn sight more than

many who’ve easily ended up a lot

better off financially.

 

Now those aren’t sentiments of a heart eaten up by anger,

bitterness or callous jealousy, just a natural concern

that in this climate of severe belt-tightening and

grim austerity it’s conscientious and

hardworking folk like me who’re

left to carry the can, and suffer

the consequences of

unseemly poverty,

which can’t be

right in a society whose government and elected

MPs, while not practising what they preach,

yet talk incessantly of us all being in it

together and falsely insinuate it’s

all to do with fairness and

equality of opportunity.

 

© Stanley V. Collymore

15 February 2013.