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Adapted from my poem, The MP Got a Job (below). The MP Got a Job By the spotted mountain, We cry where we once danced Where’s the loyalty? Where are the jobs the MP promised? Foolish us! How are we back here again? How are we here Dying on the streets Because the MP got a job To keep us off the streets. All this madness! They don’t want us talking about it. See no evil, say no evil, But man, for how much longer? They are all mad, I swear! They think we’re foolish, Because we cry out to them. To tame the monster eating the children. They will come to beg us again Mouths sweet, pockets bursting Promises, Words they don’t hold in their hearts A loyalty as pure as mine But hunger makes my kin betray me But this is where we are Hungry man, disloyal man! Don't speak, man! You and I are ice and fire, But they made us so. But maybe someday we can sit together. © P.M Quinns