He started with
A single restaurant,
The first franchisee
In a small town.
Constantly toiling
To make a decent living,
Persevering through
Countless challenges.
Over the years,
His business grew and
He eventually owned
Many establishments.
He celebrates his
Good fortune by
Keeping his employees’
Wages exceptionally low.
Unstoppable rip current of
Ruthless malice, selfishness,
Eroding everything in its path.
Rapacious plunderers protecting
Coddled mega corporations
From horrible regular people
Struggling to make a living,
Pay the mortgage, as
Water pours in,
Dissolving their dreams.
Sandbags disintegrating
Against incessant onslaught,
Wall breached by marauders
Hungry to despoil the
Social contract,
Promising prosperity,
Delivering suffering.
In the break room
At the giant retailer,
They put together
A collection box
For families that
Need help over
The holidays;
Help from people
Who have no money
To people who have
Even less.
Corporate lords
Snicker in vast
Mansions as their
Employees wither,
Their pay not enough
To sustain them
And their families,
Public assistance
A necessity.
Organizing a spaghetti feed
For a sick child
Instead of supporting
Universal health care.
Raising funds for local schools,
Then voting for people who
Cut education funding and
Endeavor to privatize it.
Gathering clothes
For the poor while
Demonstrating against
A living wage.
Commonplace paradoxes,
Caring people destroying things
They claim to support.
Unhealthy contradictions.
With single-minded
Zeal, they’re off
To help those less
Fortunate live better lives.
A project to bring
Relief to the remote
Village in exchange for
Eternal fealty to dogma.
A perpetuation of the
Same kind of hierarchy
That keeps them down
In the first place.
Domination by any
Word is still the
Same wretched exercise,
Selfish, self-serving.
It’s been this way
For so long that they
Don’t even think twice
About what happens to
The people they
Offhandedly discard.
Try to talk to them
About fairness or
Compassion, they’ll
Proclaim it’s a dog-eat-dog
World and you have to
Fight for what’s yours.
A profane melee over
Material wealth and
Superficial status,
Someone always loses –
Left in ruin while
Nobody sheds a tear.
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.
