Recession What Recession

Without the wherewithal to buy
I go without the food I need
whilst richer people overfeed.
I’m free to starve in poverty.

I must rely on charity,
does nothing for my self esteem.
Never in my wildest dream
did I realise that I could be.

Without a job without a home
.By circumstances forced to steal
but my hungers all too real.
A spell in jail would be welcome.

At least inside I would be fed.
Not root in dumpsters for my food.
I’d rather work as a man should
to earn my daily crust of bread.

My firm downsized and fired me
because their profit margins fell.
A matter of economy
consigning working men to hell.

The world is run by greedy men
who are obsessed with balance sheets.
So I may never work again
but live and die upon the streets.

13-Apr-08

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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