A friendly cashier
Smiles and rings up
The customer’s items.
She responds politely
When there’s a
Slight price issue.
Only five more hours,
Plus one off the clock,
Until she can go home.
She arrives at the
Cramped apartment she shares
With two other people.
She sits at the kitchen table,
Searching online
For other prospects.
In service to
The masters,
A skewed scheme
Is introduced where
Those who can pay
Get faster service
Than those who can’t.
A divided highway
Favoring the Bentley
Over basic transportation,
A notion sprung from
Minds that have
No consideration
For equality.
I call for some help and
Receive a compulsory
Labyrinthine tour through
Rooms I do not wish to visit,
Guided by an artificially polite
Personality promising to
Get me to my destination, and
Culminating with a regrettably
Commonplace, harrowing,
Discouraging push off the cliff
Into limbo. Should I wish to
Ride again, my host will
Cordially welcome me and
Usher me along to continue
Aging with the muzak.
A limited amount of
Everything for everyone.
A few people seize most of it,
The rest don’t.
Sharing is not a virtue
In the realm of self-interest.
Engorged with blood,
Plutocrats nap comfortably.
Things are great when you
Possess virtually everything.
Unappetizing crumbs for
Everyone else.
He’s concocted a story about
Being passed up for
A promotion due to some kind of
Supposedly unfair quota.
Diseased ego deflated —
Hurt feelings —
Perceived loss of face.
Rather than bounce back,
He takes it as a personal slight and
Mounts an ever-growing campaign of
Vitriolic vituperations and
Dramatic diatribes against his
Alleged oppressor,
Ignorant privilege flailing.
He affirms that he’ll never stop
Taking action against the
Nefarious system that bestowed
The spoils upon someone else.
Given the opportunity to
Change the course of world history,
He takes small caterpillar bites,
Leaving hole-riddled leaves
Unable to sustain themselves or
The tree they live on.
One small taste provokes another.
A vulnerable organism succumbs,
Rapacious parasite feasting on
Weakened frame.
He stands satisfied,
Planning the next insult.
Countless years of
Doing the same thing
Distilled into this single
Moment where courage and
Valor might rise and transform
The course of history
To benefit all rather than some.
Pause and reflect on the
Import of the situation, the
Immense weight of gravity.
Proceed with absolute
Confidence and do
The small thing.
They make momentous decisions
Overwhelmingly based on
What benefits them
At any given moment,
Not what might help the many,
Impulsive determinations,
Carelessly executed
To quiet whatever
Discomfort they’re feeling
And refuse to address in a
Healthy manner.
Even thought he’ll
Never publicly admit it,
He’s really on a crusade
To impose his point of view
On unsuspecting others.
Insightful people have told him
He’s dogmatic and inflexible,
But he just looks at it
As being steadfast
In the face of too much
Whining from too many milquetoasts
Who don’t know right from wrong.
He grew up on a frontier of sorts,
Where you knew who the good guys were
And what color hats they wore.
He’ll never concede that
His cherished belief system doesn’t
Lend itself to nuance,
Or rely on evidence or fact,
You either get it or don’t,
He knows he’s got it,
No matter what anyone says.
