ICEBERG, by Vincent Stead

There was ice on the streets
and people were slipping over the edge.
Iceberg drifted into community harbour,
carried by dark social currents.
Floating in the backwaters of social consciousness
its glimmering white surface reflected,
the broken dreams of disenfranchised
and hijacked hopes of middle class alike.
Social media spoke of,
“Drug of unparalleled euphoria.
Instant escape from imprisonment of reality”.
Mainstream outlets shouted,
“Crime!
Instant addiction!
Sores!
Destroyed brains and families!”
Word on the street was sleepless,
incoherent,
prone to violent episodes
and insatiable need.
Nobody could pronounce
‘methamphetamine’.
Marketing thought ‘meth’,
had unsavoury connotations
of hopeless drunks collapsed in alleys.
Advertising executives focused on ‘product’;
glassy crystalline structure like ice.
‘Ice’; a one syllable word for social destruction.
Law enforcement chipped at the surface,
but the trouble with icebergs is,
ninety per cent of the pain
is below the surface.

- Vincent Stead