What Kind Of World Poem by Bill Dureen

No peace for the man in Afghanistan
No praise for the gays in 'Frisco
And we still eat meat cause it tastes so sweet
Fried up in a pound of Crisco

No rest for the guest in Budapest
No lines for the actor's mother
High fives for the guys who patrol the skies
And a crown for Castro's brother

What kind of world is this
Where ignorance is bliss
Where a lover's kiss
Is full of venom
Where people live in fear
Of neighbours far and near
Where business men
Wear suits of denim

No food for the rude and ravenous crowd
No heat for the cold and lonely
No sideways glance for a young romance
Still, a bonus for banker cronies

Never a crumb for a local bum
But a feast for the wickedly greedy
It makes you yearn for a saint's return
It makes you grieve for the needy

What kind of world is this?