Tags
colonialism, environment, exploitation, Global South, life, poem, poetry, truth
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
The people, true, they may have been in bliss,
Fishing, hunting, laughing all the while,
Greeting each the other with a smile.
But listen to my vision, listen to this:
I see customers! I see consumers! I see cash!
A way to keep our profit from a crash.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Let’s demonstrate our agribusiness joys,
Export industrial wastes and noise!
I see markets for cigarettes and cow’s milk!
You can hardly call it a rip-off, a bilk,
Because they will be so much better off
If they drink themselves to Korsakov.
And yet it sometimes happens in a craze,
These people — they don’t realize their days
Are so much better now than once they were.
They get to smell the smoke and hear the whirr;
Smoke camels; watch re-runs; drink Miller Lite;
And work in factories under cool florescent light!
Photo by Leonid Danilov on Pexels.com
Series of posts on stories and storytelling.
A sample story from Turing’s Nightmares.
