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CHARITY

Charity

 

Whatever happened to morality—

simple, uncomplicated decency?

where do we stand

to our disadvantaged neighbour?

Charity, it would appear,

has left home, departed,

leaving the gate wide open

through which the icy blasts

of avarice flow.

 

The Charity Buffs II

 

I claim to give when I take,

when I take for my services

you pay through giving—give and take,

I take, you give—they call it charity!

 

The Charity Industry—juxtaposition

 

The charity industry where

the top brass get paid a pittance

compared to what they could

draw in thumping their chests

elsewhere . . .

 

and elsewhere,

a mother in utter desperation

for the plight of her family in exile

seeking to escape the civil war in Syria,

pours petrol over her body

and sets herself alight.

 

Back in placid Britain,

do-gooders preen themselves

with handsome salaries

as tribute to their skills

at wheedling money out of the poor

in order to give to the poor.  

 

The Charity Bandwagon

 

There’s mayhem out there,

charities falling over each other

in order to claim your hard-earned cash—

give all you can that I may enrich my reputation,

shed a tear as maybe, but make sure you pay up

for the agony you freely endure

in seeing your hard-earned cash

drop into my lap— remember

for every £1 you give

some of it ends up in the drinks

at the cocktail bar.

 

God Bless You All!

 

Take from the needy

to give to the needy,

I beseech thee, and

reward me lavishly,

by the by, for you see,

without me a charity

would hardly succeed;

and so, overlook my greed

and give generously—

the more the better,

and thereby feed my habit—

that of wanting more

the more I have—

God bless you all!

 

I am the kiddie, I am the boy

 

I am an executive,

I am the kiddie,

I am the boy,

I filter off the dough,

I deserve my pot of gold—why

because I say so,

remember how much more

I could rake in from the farther shore.

 

But no,

I work for charity—

I hit at the soft underbelly

in order to wean off the loot,

and the more I scoop up from the floor

the more I’ll have for holidays abroad

and the best that money can buy!

 

Banker’s Paradise

 

Bankers live in heaven,

the heaven of unlimited greed,

the blatant pickpockets

without shame.

 

Muckrakers giganticum,

the bonus breakers—

“b” stands for bankers,

bonuses and bonanzas—

it’s help yourself time again:

one for the pot and one for the pan,

lads and lassies on the merry-go-round:

filch and plunder

as and when you can,

fill your pockets

and to hell with the rest.




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