just like this poem,
the news is never read,
it is a tragedy on safari in Italy,
maybe you have something better to do instead?!

a youngster likes to dance,
into the small hours of the weekend,
being happy with friends,
so innocent, nothing wrong with that,
but how were they to know,
it would be their last dance,
as they won’t be coming home again,
as the Monday newspapers are filled,
with another heartbreaking tragedy,
young kids losing their life,
a head on collision, lost control,
and the roads flow with blood again,
or there are the drugs,
to make you happy in a crisis,
but in that cut price drug,
full of baking soda and bleach,
a poison makes you vomit hard,
until all your organs fail, you are dead,
in a tragedy on safari in Italy,

and the wife who is sat at home,
worried she has married the wrong man,
on a TV show another father,
who has raped his daughter,
and the wife suspects her hubby too,
and when he comes home from the bar,
and he has spent all his money on slot machines,
his breath, a mixture of whiskey and grappa,
they argue and he begins to slap her,
faster, harder, anger, drunken stupor,
until he is in the spotlight,
on the front page, thanks to his drunken rage,
another femicide , another two victims,
another two women dead, bitter neighbours,
it is a tragedy on safari in Italy,

no matter how many people fill,
the town squares against the violence,
on to women, all the suffering,
the global crisis has made it worse,
an epidemic and a curse,
your lover becomes your killer,
who brought you into this world will abuse you,
use you, bruise you, kill you all over again,
it is a tragedy on safari in Italy,

and the police, what do they do?
they know who is violent and who is not,
but for all the laws they have no power,
paperwork flood and fragile as a flower,
we all saw it coming didn’t we,
but we all turned a blind eye,
what a pity, it’s so shitty, fuck you,
we should rise, we should grow,
above all the trauma of it all,
but we have become a disjointed race,
everyone fights their own battles just to win a race,
in a tragedy on safari in Italy,

there is no money to push the police,
to make arrests to make us feel safe,
they can’t even afford petrol,
they pay for it from their own purse,
maybe the car is broken and is stored away,
so crime grows strong and even worse,
the prisons are full of protesting scum,
who have had their human rights breached,
you are a criminal live with it, pay your dues,
stop being a superstar on the daily news.

only the mafia has the money and the power,
to run things how they want,
have you noticed, no more big hits,
on politicians and anti-mafia judges,
do you know what this really means?
it means the mafia are in politics,
and the judges have their pockets lined,
and the journalists who know this,
fear for their lives but with courage,
they keep writing, underlining this cancer,
of society , the mafia, in hiding, laughing,
a tragedy on safari in Italy,

journalists risk their lives daily,
to give you the news and their views,
of the hidden power left to play,
no big hits but people disappear,
into silence and nobody goes looking,
a rock over their grave that nobody looks under,
like someone who was shot dead in Naples,
the passers-by just walk over and around the corpse,
nobody speaks and nobody looks,
as if there is a ghost between their feet,
I have seen that video! shocking!
in a tragedy on safari in Italy,

so we are saved by the food and the wine,
what a better way to live you say,
the wine is made from grapes and water,
and the water is full of arsenic and mercury,
and other metals that have been spread across this land,
and the grapes are manufactured and full,
of pesticides and other defects,
and the food on your table is out of date,
we see this on the news everyday,
food rotting away in storage,
tons of shit in our food chain,
it is a tragedy on a safari in Italy,

and she can’t take no more,
from corrupt politicians to pedophiles,
not even the Vatican can save her grace,
where drugs are sent and adultery is rife,
only the new pope can put a temporary smile on your face,
we are sick of the news of what priests do,
behind closed doors with the choir boys and the vulnerable,
hope these men of god rot in hell,
and Italy herself is more angry than before,
her plains shake with anger in another earthquake,
she drowns her sorrows within another winter storm,
destroying beauty, destroying life and ancient homes,
and the rage makes her blood boil,
and this erupts together Etna, Stromboli and Vesuvio,
Italy is poisoned from toxic waste,
scarred by wind farms in places of natural beauty,
stand up Italy on your one fine leg,
escape this misery we have bestowed on to you,
get rid of the virus , bacteria gnawing at the bone,
scream to your people to leave you alone,
or love you or leave you, cure you or go,
on safari in another place, no more tragedy ,
poor old Dante and Di Vinci , rolling in their graves,
they made art from a fine country,
and this present generation has cut off her head,
disemboweled the history and left her for dead,
the tragic ending of our safari in what once was Italy!

© D.Hobson March 2014