Bards against hunger
I will be reading this poem today for a benefit for Food Not Bombs.
Maybe figs and beer will save us
Recently I learned
that troops of chimpanzees
will spend entire days
slightly drunk
on fermented fruit
from fig trees.
Scientists were baffled
that these clever beings
would seek out such fruits,
eschewing the ones
that didn't suit their needs.
I won’t go deeply into
how they discovered this;
but it involved umbrellas
and standing under trees
while the chimps slept at night.
After reading, I wondered:
in the era of small beer
and questionable
drinking water,
with everyone slightly day drunk --
kids, mothers, fathers --
Did we care for each other more?
Did we bomb each other less?
Or, like the chimpanzees,
were we still hell bent on war?
That answer remains: Yes.
*****
Food brings people together.
Bombs tear people apart.
Duck and cover did nothing
to allay my 17-year-old heart
of the fear of the USSR
taking us out.
"Every day above ground
is a good day" quipped my father.
Every day with our feet
and hands in the soil
means we can make something
of our world. Together.
Even with my black thumb,
I sow weed seeds
on the wind
and sing sweet words
to the plants and flowers:
“Grow. Grow.”
Because I know
this planet is all we have;
and it is ours.
Knowledge, community,
and solidarity
are our super powers.
*****
Oh say can you see
by the bombs' sulfurous light
the faces of those
whom you refuse to feed?
How do drone operators
sleep at night
bombing people from behind
computer screens?
The stars and stripes
a warning, bringing fear.
There is no refuge --
not even in small beer.
Hardened to the bombing
and starvation
we see every day,
we look away, thinking,
“Well, I’ve got mine.”
As we pay twenty-five bucks
for a fast-food meal
standing or driving
in an orderly line.
*****
For those of you
who tire of poetry
and balk at reading
long form prose,
Here is what you
really need to know:
Feed the people.
House the people.
Heal the people.
Listen to the people.
A fed and educated populace
is the very best of us.
Heard, and housed,
arms around one another,
they cannot steal
our hearts or minds;
we are siblings, sisters, brothers.
I am yours; and you are mine.
*****
Yet twenty-eight hundred billionaires
from their private islands and yachts
keep making deals behind gilded doors
considering us the "have nots".
"Let them eat cake” one said.
While lifting nary a finger to help.
AI is not going to save us;
that bubble is going to pop.
How can they be
so out of touch
with their humanity?
How can they not feel
for the dying plants,
the animals, and the sea?
How can they be void
of the slightest shred
of empathy?
They are become death,
destroyers of this world.
They are the ones
who should no longer
be heard.
*****
Grow figs, brew beer, keep bees.
Care for your neighbors;
wonder at drunken chimpanzees,
but eschew the billionaires --
bring those stunted fruits
to their knees.
Copyright 2025, Ari Alison