What good is Friday
When protesting, Arabs’ blood flows
Like oil over corrupt, desert lands,
When worldwide poverty spreads
With unrelenting, selfish shame,
When health care regularly consumes
Our fragile lives with new, unpaid bills,
When engulfing tsunami storms appear
Along with rig spills in the sea,
When our spring loaded rivers burst again
Unchecked and flood the native towns,
When our verdant forests begin to die
Under stifling clouds of man- made fire,
When our flowers continually wilt
With the withering colours of decay,
When a child’s gifted egg becomes
Only another broken, empty shell,
When a hardworking family has to crawl
Through another abandoned company town,
When our best schools close
Their doors to the penniless poor,
When our hard earned sweat papers
The walls of a bankrupt schemer’s vault,
When sartorial, T.V. saviours deliver
Mass produced icons for a miracle cure,
When polaroid Poker stars click and gamble
By playing games with our addictions,
When Jersey’s Atlantic shore resembles
The background, glitter of a burlesque, variety show,
When a wedding royally celebrates its
Everlasting love with rows of Asian porcelain,
When cerebral, media twits encourage
Another sensational, inflated ego to trump over us,
When poll made, politicians profess
Under duress to seek our trust,
When Sunday finally arrives
And the Sun forgot to rise,
What good is Friday
When the Sun forgot to shine?