Wasted

The corporate beast, as it doth feast
on local family stores.
one opens up and prices them out
and the small store closes doors.

But does it feast on carrion?
are small stores slowly dying?
or does it kill them, we know not
but the economy is crying.

so how, pray tell, does this beast know.
If food is rife and plenty.
It cares not, for cash it eats,
to fuel the life of gentry.

The waste we make in our western world
is beyond a sheer obsession.
There's piles of waste-food at walmart
they would not sign confession.

the stacks of waste are piling up
we're brinking on disaster,
food production's at a loss,
with people breeding faster.

so is it any, wonder now,
why half the world is starving.
the corporations run amok
a slash in sense, they're carving

yet waste we do, and are assured
we're not the main offender
the corporate beast, the king of waste
is burning our provender.

So now when you, are thinking hard
about what to have for dinner,
think about the family store,
make local stores the winner.

the corporate beast is fed by you.
buying import goods,
things you could buy locally,
and know you really should.

Yet even now, as I pen these words
we live in a west of plenty,
till we open up the pantry door,
and see that it is empty.