Profane Hail Poem by William Coyne

This profane hail, thrust from earthly heavens,
that last year crushed the crop from the cursed ground,
that sent the family farmer from work
to linger long, idly in bread lines,
to feed from the breast of the false Maria,

this profane hail, that melts into our veins
to enslave and there ease the suffering
of India's children with 'enriched' rices,
tells the familiar lie told for ages,
now forgotten, returns to repeat doom.

Patenting nature's seed, profit and greed
it's only concern. Masked by modern science
to secure growth of future dividends
for hungry shareholders, damned the ends
to justify means for the one percent.