A miserable horde
Of maudlin, unhappy beings,
So far away from their
Cores that they have
No idea what else to do
But lash out at others
For living as they can’t.
Don’t worry
Your pretty little head,
I will choose
What’s best for you,
I will guide you
Down this difficult road,
I will make all
The decisions about
Your body,
I will stop
At nothing to
Maintain my
Cowardly control.
The shanties spill over
The top of the hills
Until they meet
The gleaming luxury
High-rises housing
People who complain
About what an eyesore
It is to look out on
A bunch of poor people.
She’s noticed the constantly
Shrinking soap bar lately,
Becoming smaller and smaller,
Dissolving more quickly,
Carefully shaped to
Break in half sooner,
Infused with less fragrance.
For as long as she can
Remember, bars of soap
Were a certain size but,
At some point, it became
Acceptable for companies
To sell whatever they want,
Knowing they have a
Captive audience with
No other real options.
It all happened so fast,
Nobody was ready for it,
As evidenced by their
Random utterings,
Contemplations normally
Left for quieter moments
When others aren’t around.
A woman walks through
The room,
Trying to calm people down,
But they don’t listen,
Uncertainty being what it is.
She raises her hand
To answer a question,
A tattered book used
By many classes before
Her lays on her scarred
Desk in a room with
Peeling paint, torn floors,
Water-stained ceiling tiles.
He’s been incapable of
Accepting that
Times are changing and
That his exclusive club
Now lets in members
Who don’t look like him and,
He fears, will unravel
The whole scam.
A complete absence of self-awareness,
Manifesting as the total lack of
Ability to see the effect of one’s
Toxic actions on others,
Perpetuating an unchanging
Cycle of discomfort and suffering
Mangling anything in its path and
Rendering reason insignificant.
Swimming against a torrent,
The suffocating swirls of hurt
Pulling one down until
No self remains.
The myth of the
Self-made man:
He rises from poverty and,
By sheer will,
Determination, and
Hard work becomes
Wildly successful,
All on his own.
The truth behind
The myth: The man
Was born into a
Society that allows
For success and provides
The governmental framework,
Social conditions,
Public services, and
Physical infrastructure
That permit someone
Like him to
Enjoy great fortune.
Another often-overlooked
Detail: The staggeringly
Monumental chance that the
Man is born in the right
Place and at the right time
To prosper.
Countless equally
Hard-working people don’t
Get the same breaks,
Don’t arrive at
The ideal time.
It could just as
Easily been him
Struggling for a lifetime.
