Water, food, soil, and fuel,
All things we take for granted.
We use them past our heart's content,
Our stomachs rarely grumble.
But rumble, still, do many bellies,
Empty in a distant world.
Aching pains in the slums of Delhi,
Far flung from satiated Earls.
In Kenya, well felt, the pangs of hunger,
While Sainsbury's shelves are ripe
With fruit and veg which we have plundered
Regardless of their stomach's strife.
Abundance is a wealthy myth
Unwittingly revered.
One rule for one, and one for none,
While scarcity, for all,
is an ever present fear.
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