A small town on the river
Tonight the beer is dark
I can’t understand why
The barges are low in the water
Bow waves wash along the decks
I share a word of pleasure with a stranger,
in her language,
As we watch a heron pose
The accordion player smiles right into my eyes
In thanks for a coin
In the crowd the football songs are the same
Young lads, well drunken
Ask the way to the old town
And apologize for their schoolboy English
Over fish soup
Two businessmen write down where to visit
Discuss the war
And Clint Eastwood, who they’d met on holiday
Why should anyone want to kill these people?
Private Health Providers
First they came for the glasses
And I said nothing because I could afford glasses
Then they came for the teeth
And I said nothing because I could afford teeth
Then they came for the warts
And I said nothing because I could afford warts
Then they came for the heart surgery
Beware of words
To kill them
You must first make them less than human
And all that takes
Is words
How the West was lost
When politicians cheat and bankers lie
And newspapers won’t fight the good fight
The man in the street joins the army’s old cry
For a strong man to put it all right
Austerity
There will come a day
When you work
Not for wages
But for the bread to fill your belly
And on that day
Banks will, as usual,
Mess up
And ask you to eat less bread
History
We the blind
Saw only plenty
Never the sign