A Happy Poem

A Happy Poem

This poem is a happy poem because
Hitler killed all those people
but it didn't happen to me
and Stalin starved twenty million
but I'm eating chocolate biscuits
and in Sierra Leone and Chad
and Somalia and Bangladesh and
North Korea, people are fighting and
starving and suffering and dying
but I'm well out of all that
and more or less untouchable as far
as politics and economics go.
Yeah, I mean I know the planet's fucked
and my kids, when I have them,
will be looking at a demographic nightmare
of over-crowding, pollution and drastically
lowered life expectancy, but by then
I'll be pushing up daisies with a fucking smile on my face.

So this is a happy poem.
I mean, why shouldn't it be?