If a nation of
One hundred people
Possesses one hundred
Dollars and ninety-nine
Of those dollars go
To one person, that
Leaves one dollar for
Ninety-nine people.
Not a bad deal deal
For that one person,
A terrible one for
Everyone else.
Some people think
This is okay,
Others don’t.
An insidious myth
That pervades both
Casual and supposedly
Expert conversation:
Both sides are the same,
A point of view easily
Debunked by even the
Most cursory of examinations,
The difference between
Cruelty and compassion.
Sarah reads her father
A story, just like
He did when she was a
Little girl. She kisses
Him on the forehead and
Wishes him a good night.
Quietly closing the door,
She wonders how they will
Pay for his medical bills.
Truth is treated as
Just another obstacle to
Total domination by
People so broken that
They believe no one
Notices their misdeeds.
Unrepentant psychopaths
Don’t care about fact,
Only their next conquest.
They are encouraged to
Be virtuous in their
Service to their superiors,
It being vitally important
To know one’s place and
Dutifully cater to those
Above one’s station,
A self-perpetuating nightmare
If one finds oneself on
The wrong rung of the ladder.
Out of sight, out of luck,
A carefully orchestrated
Farce benefiting disparity.
In an enormously wealthy
Nation, cruelty exists
As a pastime relished by
Malefactors with nothing
Better to do than
Step on another neck
To feel better about
Themselves for a moment
While deliriously rolling in
Stacks of money,
Reminding themselves and
Their accomplices how much
Better they are than
Those other people.
You can’t build a thriving,
Egalitarian, democratic society
If you set it up to favor
Only one group at the expense of
All others. Once you’ve given
Every advantage to one segment of
The population, it’s disingenuous
To purport that, because one or two
Of the non-chosen ones succeed,
Equal opportunity actually exists;
Those are the exceptions to the
System you’ve created to make sure
Only certain people prosper.
Keeping women down,
They call it tradition.
Telling them what to do
With their bodies.
Condemning them to
Second-class status.
Piety used as an
Excuse to subjugate.
If they’re on top then
Someone’s at the bottom.
Absence of light in his eyes,
Extinguished long ago
By the very people
Who could have kindled it –
Cared for him as a
Precious gift.
Some stories don’t end
The way we might wish,
Meandering in some awful
Direction instead,
Consuming themselves and us –
Unconscious coldness.
He doesn’t lack certainty,
Absolutely sure that
Hardness is the best path
To everything, it’s
What he knows, the only
Thing he recognizes.
