Who do you exclude to stay in your Comfortabubble?

Having power means you’re able to shut down /shut out what doesn’t suit, according to your whim and mood

WIth Computerised BLips the English Whisper, Shored Up in their Comfort Zones, Surrounded by Drones:

We don’t need to put on rose-coloured glasses when we live in a big iridescent, shimmering, rainbow-coloured bubble,

When our great great great grandparents started to spawn them, they adorned them such that each basket case of offspring, inherited all they needed.

Then the next generation did the same, keeping up with the times, but always ensuring the best for the next basket case of children, so no, you can’t blame us.

We say it’s only natural to provide the best for our own children, though those primitive Africans might say, it takes a whole village to raise a child- well, they are simply wrong.

It just takes constant military updating, so you are always the biggest and the fiercest, only then can you take whatever you want for your children, and they learn from your example and so on and so forth.

No, it’s not a European disease, that other kids’ labour is fodder for your fields, be sure that if the boot was on the other foot, they’d do the same, it’s just that they can’t, so they complain.

Out of sight is out of mind, whether its kids working in garment factories or whether we clear the land by genocide, just you Black and Brown people, don’t come to our genteel creative writing classroom and talk about it.

We live in England’s green and pleasant land, our rubbish is taken by ship far far away, ‘cos we don’t want the stink of our refuse in our back yards, rivers and hills and precious dales.

Outside At the Gates Mutter The Tired, Excluded World Majority While The Nearly Extinct Snow Leopards, Lions, Bees and Butterflies are Gathered Around Them…

How are you finding life in your comfortabubble? Far from the city’s hustle and bustle? Does your conscience ever make you toss and turn and tussle You hedge fund managers, who never did one day’s manual work But how you play with our lives on computer files Screens that show your manipulations of future markets But it’s still our hard labour planting the coffee beans for your lattes, Harvesting exotic fruits like bananas, pineapples And then there’s our cutural heritage like yoga that you Transmogrify into Pilates And over in the Congo our children wheeze as they mine Coltran and copper, And I know u don’t want to hear about the slaughter in Gaza You just wanna stay in your comfortabubble So you don’t get triggered. But the world is full of difficult, even terrible things that you’ve caused And when you say its triggering for you to even hear about them Well ain’t that cowardice; Exercising privilege in the extreme? You don’t have to be part of the KKK M16, or the SS, you know, you just have to play deaf To the screams of the currently bombed with your taxes Me, I’m in love with the beautiful, and the brave Yemeni Are you sitting on fences, and looking away? Is a poem for the buried alive, under the rubble The children left with no family For your weaponised whyte fragility Just too triggering? So tell me how you’re not upholding, This brutal imperial hegemony?

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With thank to Noora Kassem, Leif Olson, Alexander Martin الكسندر مارتن 🕊️, Lola Rosario, Frank Moone, ernest edwards, augmented man and Isabella Addy. Your comments and the sense of your presence and words, over the past few days and weeks, really brought forth this poem. So I dedicate it to you, with love and gratitude.