LIBYA

A despot in a desert
Making sandcastles of his people ‘s plight
Their Pipe dreams  with  gushing oil
To the rapacious west .

We fill our tanks  without a thought
For the bitter  tears of Libya
Their life blood making for our every comfort

Our lights , our fridges
Our air-conditioned buildings
And central heated houses

Take out the atlas ,
See it orphaned there
Between the desert and the sea ,

And for forty years we cosied up
To this military maniac
Gave indulgence to his delusions
Let him encamp in the Parisian state residence

Listened to his rambling ravings
At the UN  General, Assembly .
Watched his fetching female body guards
Read bemused his Green Book


Now the sands of time
Have slipped through the hourglass
But there is no rest in any Libyan’s heart
While the desert fox
Roams in his warren beneath the Tripoli soil.