Covid-Mother
I wrote this poem on 1st June 2020. And today, a random conversation about Covid in Co-op with a lovely lady, and we were talking about, stockpiling, the toilet roll crisis, and i mentioned this poem I had written, about the planet reclaiming, and thriving, with the Covid ‘reset.’ She asked if she could read the poem anywhere. So here it is…
Covid- Mother
Death to Capitalism!
They heard it everywhere
They couldn’t hear it shouting
From a micro-organism though.
Death to capitalism! They heard it from the
Spluttering, shouting out of youths
Exuberant with the right to
Live even from their last breath.
They didn’t know those last
Breaths were a requiem
Nature laughed in sunshine rays and new budding
Blossoms on those first days of isolation
A few windows of grocery shops
And the beginnings of smashed windows
An overheard conversation a just caught
Audible infraction of, ‘there’ll be looting next…’
To celebrate getting a loaf of bread,
Or finally finding meat,
Or reeling at a £6.50 bottle of
Hand sanitizer that
is more than your evening meal
Bubbling smugly in the pot having
Smited a stockpiler
Just this once.
Death to Capitalism!
They heard it everywhere
For capitalism trod on the very workers
That provided the profit
And Mother nature’s womb
Ached to see her young
So downtrodden amongst
The concrete
And the glass ceilings
Her children were broken and
Mother became ill, ill because her tears
of salt were the oceans
Her odd dreams a duck billed platypus
Her liberty in a newborn’s scream to live.
Her breasts were the earth that nurtured us.
But Mother was sick and tired,
Death to capitalism!
Fake news and bombs pervaded
Media, social media, fashion, some starvation, not just fashion,
On the streets was an audible infraction of hunger.
Celebrity, politics, arts, technological mayhem
A legacy of narcissism, fanaticism from both sides.
The great toilet/loo roll war of 2020 began in Australia
Trump refers to the virus as Chinese.
Mother Nature was displeased.
Death to Capitalism!
all the grey men in gray suits
Gathered like wood pigeons
Old 40’s gangster machismo
Drinking
James Cagney’s last glass of milk
From Humanity.
Mother Nature sighed
Coughed
She said ‘I am your Death to Capitalism!
I am the Mother that gave you the earth
So you could grow and be plentiful.
But do not take so
much that you make your Mother ill.
And Mother Nature coughed
And Mother cried and
in her last breath
Whispered
I am death to capitalism
And once you are gone
I shall thrive.
