Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Shucks

Conglomerates control the corn
unconcerned with who’s a husk
they only sniff when stalks are shorn
for monetary musk,

oblivious to growling guts
and sunken, hollow eyes
they cultivate unyielding ruts
with hopes the price will rise;

these moguls of the upper tiers
could care what cause is born
our voices fall on deafest ears—
conglomerates control the corn.

6 comments:

Paul Andrew Russell said...

Why use it for food when you can make fuel with it? Another commodity.

What's a few million hungry souls mean to the conglomerates compared to the price they can get?

Nice writing, Bob.

Shirley said...

I love the way you play with words and still get your point across...Sad but true. :)

S.E.Ingraham said...

very nice play on words and play with words - esp like the title ... as Shirley said, "sad, but true"

Jan Freeman said...

Richly worded poem, Bob. Food for profit is a sad human reality

Dave King said...

Brilliant! Ticks all the boxes for me.

rch said...

I'm so glad no one thought it was too corny ;^)