Category: Poverty

We thought we were indestructible…

On By jovisgoesIn Illness, Life, Loss, Love, old age, Poetry, political, Poverty, Poverty, Survival, Thoughts, TimeLeave a comment

We thought we were indestructible
That the world was ours to grasp
It was clear it was the old ‘n’  incorrigible
Who’s breath came out in a rasp.
 

And so we lived our comfortable lives
Thinking mainly of ourselves and our own
Getting the best cars to fit in our drives
Making certain our lawns were all mown.
 

We only applied for the very top posts
Believing, as we did, we’re the best
Entertaining bosses as such perfect hosts
We really were promotion obsessed.
 

Then one of you is ill, you’re pulled up dead short
It makes you evaluate your life
You start to resent being one of your sort
The thought cuts your soul like a knife.
 

As time passes by you realise you do care
At the way of the world and the hurt
The way that the rich have far more than their share
While others look for food in the dirt.
 

Perhaps though, most of us go through this change
When the blinkers finally fall from the eyes
We recognise that apathy is wrong and so strange
It’s the time we start hearing sufferer’s cries.
 

Soon your own health gets you into the time-frame
Where your sneezes and wheezes start to count
And you worry that things will never be the same
And are you warm and eating the right amount!
 

You realise you’re far from indestructible
As your breath come out in a rasp
But for you life is ever so precious
And you’ll hang on with your dying gasp.

 
©Joe Wilson – We thought we were indestructible…2015

On reflection…

On By jovisgoesIn Anger, Fate, Fear, guilt, Life, Poetry, political, Poverty, Regret, The World, Time, War, Women's RightsLeave a comment

I rise from my nice warm bed
and having made a morning drink
for my beloved wife, and one for me,
I run a bath.
As I luxuriate
in that warm bubbled water
I reflect on how lucky I am.

Later, washed and dressed for the day
I sit at the table and enjoy
a fine meal from God’s harvest
and again I reflect, and I feel…
guilt!

Guilt for the small children
who have no homes in which to feel safe
guilt that so many of them
will not eat again today.

I feel guilt
for all of the poor women around the globe
who will this very day give birth
to babies who they will surely love
but in whose having they had no choice…
no one ever hears their terrified voice.
Poor women beaten by poverty
who still struggle to feed those children
and yet too those who violate them so.

I feel guilt for all the men who cannot be made
to realise that the world is not theirs to design,
and at the way that some men feel
their own importance trumps all other considerations,
and guilt at all of the war ravaged lands.

And when I look down at the bounteous fare before me
I feel only one thing – shame.

 

©Joe Wilson – On reflection… 2014

The world cries out…

On By jovisgoesIn Poetry, Poverty, Terror, The World, War, wisdomLeave a comment

Our world cries out in sorrow again
People dying on lonely streets
And blood is shed and spirits crushed
It seems that history repeats.

Would that we could see the truth
Of all that’s good within our sight
That we would see our own great wealth
And help to ease another’s plight.

If we could see and do all that
And in ourselves we understood
Would we not find ourselves at peace
And know at least we’d done some good.

 

©Joe Wilson – The world cries…2014

Just a boy…

On By jovisgoesIn Betrayal, Life, Poetry, Poverty, TerrorLeave a comment

orphanage_edited

It rained
It rained down on me
– and it wouldn’t stop!

The torrent of vicious blows just wouldn’t stop
They beat me
They beat me
They beat me

They wouldn’t stop

I was a boy…I was a child

Why wouldn’t they stop?

Mother!
Father!

Why have you abandoned me?

This is not what it says

This is not a home

This is my nightmare.

 

©Joe Wilson – Just a boy…2014

Life could be harsh in orphanages in the nineteen-fifties.
I’m ever grateful that I only heard of this and didn’t experience it myself.

Life, or is it…updated

On By jovisgoesIn Poetry, Poverty1 Comment

Did you call last night, I never heard a sound
just the distant hum of a soul nearby
another lonely person passing by.

Life on the street as a lonely old tramp
under the bridge and out of sight
I live in a loneliness of my own plight

Things you left, things I saw
bits of messages left for me
why won’t you go and let me be.

Is it the booze or is it the drugs
why can’t I make out the words
it makes no sense, it’s completely absurd.

Did you leave anything when you called last night
I’ve thought once or twice about ending my life
But I’d get more drugs if I sold the knife.

How the hell did it get to this point
I’m always too far gone to care
not even sure sometimes that I’m even there.

©Joe Wilson – Life, or is it…2014

 

huddled together like lovers…

On By jovisgoesIn Life, old age, Poetry, PovertyLeave a comment
from AgeUK
from AgeUK

They sat in blankets as they tried to keep warm
penniless with no heating and no coal to burn
while outside they heard the violent storm
the blizzard of snow and ice all churn.

Slowly they both began to freeze to death
there was no-one to help or ease their plight
they were just poor and lonely old sisters
who would probably die in the dark of this night.

They were just another statistic of winter
a cold one much worse than some others
they had eked out their money on eating
so they now huddled together like lovers.

There are so many who suffer in winter
and we really should spare them a thought
we should all keep an eye out for our neighbour
as help, due to their pride is not sought.

It is dawn now and the sisters are frozen
one died and the other breathes slow
but there is no-one to even take notice
and in a short while like her sister she’ll go.

©Joe Wilson – huddled together like lovers…2014

Thoughts of Old Age

On By jovisgoesIn Loss, Love, old age, Poetry, Point of View, PovertyLeave a comment

800px-Flickr_-_HuTect_ShOts_-_Old_Age_Steps_-_Masjid-_Madrassa_of_Sultan_Hassan_-_Cairo_-_Egypt_-_16_04_2010
Photo by: Ahmed Al.Badawy, Cairo, Egypt

He was a very poor and sad old man whose pride belied his fear
That one day he’d be a burden to his folks who held dear.
He’d worked hard every single day, now he didn’t cope so well
He knew that his ears were a problem too, he was going deaf he could tell.

He guessed it was just a sign of his age, he’d soon be eighty-one
He’d been fitted with a hearing-aid, but he forgot to switch it on.
And though he had his radio on to listen to all the news
He struggled to tell what was being said, he rarely heard their views.

And so from time to time he sat and enjoyed his garden flowers
He didn’t need to hear them grow, he’d watch them sway for hours.
He’d take his paper and his specs and go down to his shed
And often not read anything as he’d fall asleep instead.

There are times when he forgets though and he sleeps in there all day
When his son or daughter find him, it’s getting more that way.
And he sometimes can’t remember what he’s supposed to do
It’s when his mind goes like this that his thoughts feel stuck in glue.

His son told him the other day he was looking for a place
Where others could look after him, but he’d still have his own space.
He’ll never want to leave this house, his memories are all here
His dear wife still lives in its heart, he won’t go, is that clear!!

But now the odds are against him as he struggles every day
He sometimes doesn’t dress quite right and he cannot properly shave.
And he’ll sometimes sit and weep the tears of a man who feels marooned
He’ll sit and wonder when he’ll die for it cannot come too soon.

©Joe Wilson – Thoughts of Old Age 2014

A Magical Moment…and then it’s gone!

On By jovisgoesIn Loss, Poetry, Point of View, political, Poverty, Regret, Terror, War1 Comment

The World Crisis 2012 3

Within that magical moment
The world is at one and at ease
Everyone is loving their neighbour
And we have control of disease.

But it doesn’t last, it cannot last
It will all go back as before
To the dying from hunger and violence
To man’s unending desire for war.

One man plants a crop for food
But another man reaps the gain
The one making life from the profit
While another’s reward is just pain.

If a man is black, or yellow, who cares!
His blood like yours is red
The bullets or knives that pierce your skins
Would make you both as dead.

A man gets beaten in the street
His crime was being gay
Who gave those others the right to judge
Will prejudice never go away?

The ones with strength to dominate
Should nonetheless take heed
When they themselves are wanting help
Who’ll stay to fill that need.

I hear the ever-growing rains
They flood the town and field
Where hardship’s felt so gravely
Where man is forced to yield.

Perhaps we brought it on ourselves
We feel the need for so much
But there are so many with nothing
Who’d benefit from a gentle touch.

Back to that magical moment
It’s the one just before I awake
Where the next moment comes and it’s over
And it can’t be put right with a shake.

 

©Joe Wilson – A Magical Moment…and then it’s gone! 2014

The Juggernaut

On By jovisgoesIn old age, Poetry, Point of View, political, PovertyLeave a comment

juggernaut3_edited

The Juggernaut that is life marches on
Never stopping for the stragglers on the way
Those less able to cope with the speed of it all
Get further disheartened every day.

But we set up a system to help them
It’s the bureaucracy that now runs our lives
And you get yourself sucked right inside it
Trying to wrestle with the rules it contrives.

But the vulnerable still struggle daily
With the system’s strange hoops we jump through
It’s as if it’s made complex on purpose
And it feels like your feet are in glue.

I’ve a neighbour who can never get out much
And she’s old and not too well off
So she has to decide if to eat or stay warm
And no heating is bad for her cough.

In the end what you find is the Juggernaut
Is the system itself and its weight
With its efforts to grind down the people
And an appetite we just can’t sate.

 

©Joe Wilson – The Juggernaut 2014

Carelessness

On By jovisgoesIn Family, Loss, Poetry, Point of View, Poverty, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Molly wanted for absolutely nothing,
And that was definitely my fault
She’d not accept the worth of the less wealthy
And when she saw them she was difficult.

I never told how I’d started with nothing
Not wanting her derision I guess
I’d thought that by not telling her that stuff
She’d not decide to think me any less.

It was a foolish error on my part
For she rode roughshod over the poor
Till I found I could tolerate it no longer
Removed her allowance and the key to her door.

I said you’ll have to fend for yourself now
If you do it you’ll be better by far
Oh, and take all those things out of your pocket
That’s your phone, and you’ll not have a car.

Downcast she set off on her own way
Cast a look at me, I nearly cried
I’d keep an eye out of course and protect her
But she needed to have worked and have tried.

Two years passed and she found her rock-bottom
But she started to work and she grew
I said to her would you like to come home now
She said she’d stay where she was…thank you.

Fact is, Molly’s lost now forever
She’d survived and she picked herself up
But if I’d raised her right in the first place
She have known about sharing the cup.

So in the end I stand with my great wealth
But with no one to share it with now
If you want to know how not to raise children
Come to me and I’ll show you how.

©JRW2014

Fortunately, for my part, this is a work of complete fiction.