Shit happens

What happens to the world, when technology dies?
Poetry, painting and art came before,
Plateaued,
Once more.
The last switch of the circuit
Will become broken,
It's for sure.
And then, alas,
What is left?

A catalyst for change?

After Apartheid,
quite rightfully subverted,
The ashes of Mandela's revolution
Scatter on the whimsical breeze
Of Zuma, as he
plies the bribes
and piles the coffers.

Apartheid, long gone,
But better for who?
None of those,
Supposedly in lieu.

And Mugabe,
What comes after Mugabe,
The Zimbabwean Hitler.
It's all down
to the White Man,
the problems therein,
so goes the rhetoric
of the corrupt whim.

Farms, once productive,
Deserted as armed raids
Send them to flee,
Or murder them there.
"Shoot the farmer,
Kill the Boer,"
Lives destroyed,
The poor even poorer.

Out of revolution,
The violent
And fascists rise.
The whites replaced,
The repression inside.
Remains.
The song remains the same.
Corruption is colourless,
So who then is to blame.

Mugabe, gone,
A catalyst for change?

The Honey is Gold

Obsessed with money and gold,

but rather more blessed with honey,

once we grow old, what room do we have

for coins in the purse?

To live without food is a curse.

a life well lived is a life well nourished -

we need bold new ideas for a changing earth, to flourish.

With biteback, for Orangutans, we can fight back,

a sustainable oil better than palm-based toil.

Our rainforests might just be saved from the plight,

of a hooven stampede if our animal feed

is in fact made from MagMeal waste not from grain.

With nowt to lose and plenty to gain,

with a Thought for Food we can brighten the refrain,

and hasten the future.

Where we look beyond borders and antiquated roles,

and like Shahida Begum search deep in our souls...

To change what we can, where we can, if we can.

Bees not money, the honey is gold.

// As featured on the BBC World Service //