Photo by Brett Sayles on

Empty churches, unheard preachers,
Fewer nurses, no more teachers.
Burgled house, then you're in lumber,
No police just some crime number.

Need a doctor for some ointment,
Make do with a phone appointment.
As for all the many food banks,
They've replaced the high street's closed banks.

Want a train, the station's closing,
Weeds upon the track reposing.
Feeling lazy, don't like walking,
Let your scooter do the talking.

Child's the brains of next door's pussy,
Universities' not fussy.
What d'you mean, it's all a mess,
This, my dear, is called progress.

17 Comments on “Progress

  1. Excellent poem Hobbo, a lot of food for thought on the definition of “progress” in the modern world! πŸ˜πŸ‘πŸ‘

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m inclined to agree with you on that summation Hobbo! πŸ€”πŸ‘The more “modern” we become, the more backwards we go.

    Liked by 1 person

    • It was a gentle dig at mobility scooters. Some people need them but others are just too darned lazy to walk!


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