Tuesday, 12 May 2020 13:01


Written by
in Poetry


by Dave Lewis

I was thinking about the last pandemic,
when fifty million war-ravaged souls
coughed up their bloody guts and died.
Merely a small gesture on my part,
after the royalists’ pointless war.
To be honest, after you did it again,
I couldn’t be arsed to punish you.
Thought a big bomb or two
was enough of a deterrent.

I socially distanced myself,
like I’d always done really.
Laughed as you created your own lockdowns:
9 to 5 became 5 to 9,
rat racing, tower blocks,
GPS tracking devices (iPhones),
plastic oceans, pangolin poverty,
pygmy killings, Watutsi slaughter,
forests without rain (palmed off),
porn addictions, Pol Pot,
anti-depressant dependency,
deserts for all and bear bile.
Then tiger bone magic,
a lack of whales, Vietnam,
ivory collecting and prisons
for your cousins
(even the beautiful orange ones),
factory farming,
Apples, Googles and
sharing and liking it all…

I sighed and called a meeting with the termites.
The ants were there too and of course the cockroaches.
Salamanders supplied refreshments.

OK, one last chance was the decision.
Surely you can see the blue skies now?
The lack of contrails, the clear waters,
the goats in Llandudno
and fresh air.

But your TV and radio still don’t get it
but then most of them never did science.
And what’s with this Bill Gates guy?
Making vaccines with names like XP,
2000, Version 8, Millennium, 95 (special edition).
And those labs with the next generation
of airborne Ebola, polio for your cereal,
smallpox for the weekend,
radioactive HIV, eco-plague.
You’d swear they were prepping
for upgrades. A monthly subscription,
a lifetime of protection
from the viruses I made for a joke
with leftover DNA.

Oh dear.
Well as the old saying goes:
‘You can’t educate pork.’
So listen long pig and listen good
‘Sort it out or it’s dinosaur time for you!’

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Dave Lewis

Dave Lewis is a poet and photographer from Pontypridd, South Wales.