He Sold the Third World

First he sold tobacco to the third world,
and the cancer wards were clogged
with bloody sputum.
And he became a house filled with fine glassware,
and he shined with yellow windows
against the blue of night.

Then he sold pesticides to the third world,
babies were born without hands and feet.
And he became a little sports car,
he sped over roads that ran by the sea.

Finally, he sold arms to the third world,
grass huts went up in flame.
He became a wardrobe, a sound system,
a rain-smeared deck for the patio.
He became everything that is bought and sold,
everything that hasn't got a mind,
everything but a man.

3 comments:

believer333 said...

Incrediblly written.

Reminds me of years ago when I wrote a poem about the body of Christ being a living organism and not a machine.

thanks for sharing this.

Kristen said...

Excellent and pointed indictment of Western materialism.

Joe Hinman said...

thanks 333, Kristen I appreciate it