An afternoon of snooker on TV,
With every frame winning followed by
A commercial break, adverts that try,
Through poignant entreaty, to persuade me
To pick up my phone or just send a text
And donate month on month, as if charities
Can correct all the gross disparities
Of capitalism. First, war zones, next
The homeless, food banks, then forced marriage
Of young girls, the latest famine, immense
Problems of diseases drugs costing pence
Could treat, chronic loneliness of old age.
Each and every one a worthy mission,
But none will cure the ills of competition.