Mammon

The great god Mammon has shrines all round the globe;
his worship spans the hhistory of man;
while most religions' fortunes ebbed and flowed,
his primacy's endured since time began.

As greed served evolution's strategy
and money eased accumulating wealth,
so favoured men by legal larceny,
conquest, subterfuge or cunning stealth

enriched themselves beyond all normal needs
and wasted scarce resources without shame,
creating envy in the other creeds
for decadent luxury and foolish fame.

Then wealth became the aim of simple minds,
a dream to solve life's problems in a flash
of rich relations' wills or various kinds
of  windfall, property or lottery cash.

More sober souls could build life-long careers
on steady increase of portfolios,
a bigger house or better car in years
to come without risking imbroglios.

For women Mammon is a household god
with furnishings and white goods in his praise,
his holy book a big store catalogue
accompanying prayers prosperity stays.

While every new possession adds some spice
to lives that need the interest that comes
from something new, and shopping's no great vice,
and no-one really wants to live in slums,

too much devotion to the Mammon cause
can badly warp our personalities;
cupidity is not the worst of flaws
but magnifies our other frailities.

Thus blinkered eyes of envy only see
the rich, ignoring those less fortunate,
encouraging selfishness and snobbery,
refusing help to the inadequate.

Instead of  'Love thy neighbour' Mammon's flock
believe that 'Charity begins at home',
so comfortably avoiding any shock
responsibility where they don't roam.

"We can be friends with anyone." they say,
"We have no prejudices, that we know.
We don't let creed or colour bar the way
to anybody's progress; let them go

their own way, we'll go ours and then no doubt
we all can prosper. Oh, and by the way,
just pull the ladder up on your way out."
("You know it's only sensible." they say.)

Of course we all want to improve our lot
and give our children what we never had
but does the need for what we haven't got
obscure the fact indulgence can be bad

for them as well as us: obesity
signals excessive cash but bankrupt wills,
and unathletic minds zapped by TV
think life should be a constant stream of thrills;

or, failing to distinguish real from fake,
we search for meaning in the shopping mall
and fuss about the icing on the cake
when many people don't have cake at all.

How little does the latest fashion count
compared to widespread third world poverty
and all the problems others can't surmount
unless we curb our selfish vanity?

How dare we hanker after some new toy
or windowshop for something nice to buy
when somewhere parents, whom our whims destroy,
for lack of medicine, watch their children die?

No doubt our primate ancestry explains
our need for status and respect from peers
but if a whole economy ingrains
just selfishness, it surely causes fears

for that society's continuance.
Could Mammon's blessings undermine their cause
since wealth and luxury breed decadence
and hasten terrorism and new wars?

Still we enjoy our wealth without complaints,
believing everything is fairly priced
and trust in Mammon's pantheon of saints
where Father Christmas outranks Jesus Christ.

Crash

"I think he's alright. He moved his head."

the TV commentator said.

But he wasn't alright. Ayrton Senna was dead.

His head hadn't 'moved' but slumped instead.

Warmly welcome, worthy of respect,

a social service ministration

adapted to undertaking risk

confronting chancy situations

paid well enough to accept.

Unquestioning of motivation,

non-judgemental of performance

with sympathy for inadequacy

and quietly confident reassurance

of future satisfaction.

Professional willingness to please,

refreshing in lack of modesty,

young and beautiful, no slags these,

intelligent femininity

delivering sexual therapies.

We toured Israel, we three,
you and my wife and me.
(My wife however could not guess
at my degree of stress.)
Tel Aviv passport control
saw part but not the whole.
The Hula valley soon went past
(bluethroats and cranes at last).
Mount Hermon's summit heard your voice
make Galilee rejoice.
Ma'agan Mikael impressed
the uninvited guest.
The Negev desert, Elat's shore,
En Gedi and much more
we visited and revelled in,
a trio not a twin.
To me you were as bright as day
wherever we would stay
but other people could not tell
that you were there as well.
We went and we came back still three
travelling hopefully.
Such a strange group, three in a bed -
two real, you in my head.

This city street is awash with yearning
people in the current,
jetsam in the gutters churning,
flotsam on the pavement.

No imminent fear of loss of life
but only deprivation
as displaced persons, refugees
hoping for salvation.

No aftermath of some disaster,
just a bit dejected
with levels of happiness much less
than what might be expected.

While the young are busy at work,
the old, infirm, inept,
the shameless few content to shirk
and those who overslept,

widows, widowers, husbands, wives
parade the shops bereft
to regain meaning in their lives
unsure where it was left.

Somewhere here they hope they'll make
a way out from their plight -
perhaps a chocolate bar will take
the pace of Mr Right.

That bloke dawdling by the pub
still thinking of his ex -
maybe another pint or two
will substitute for sex.

There's a couple slowly walking
towards the cosy coffee shop.
Perhaps a cup will start them talking
and save their marriage breaking up.

I, like them, am seeking love
and trawl potential partners;
I also could ask God above
for someone who likes gardeners.

I want the warmth of a partner's body,
comforting without stress,
but the warmth of a personality
is harder to assess.

Though much too old for passion now,
I'm still a mug for beauty
though trying to re-aim my bow
and answer call of duty.

I'm trying to develop a taste
for mutton over lamb
though sometimes it does seem a waste
of what I thought I am.

We all of us can make the most
of life without our spurning
experience so we can boast
this street's alive with learning.

The back of my house points south south east;
the morning sun shine through a glass door
into a room allowing me
to sunbathe naked on the floor
for an hour or so at least -
less a window, more a door
of opportunity.

Talk to the ones who love you,
confide in those that care;
boy and girl friends come and go -
parents are always there.