unknowingly brushing a passerby.
He turns and steps in my way,
blocking the path, staring at
me with harsh, unblinking eyes.
"What's up wit dat. You come
bumble'n -n- stumble'n into my
hood without my permission.
And pemission costs."
Holding his hand out as if
he was empowered to collect
the tax by some obscure
political agency.
'What gives you the right to
block my way and demand pittance
for using this walk?'
"Cause I'm the shit."
'What else would come from an ass.'
I bled.
Some thing are better left unsaid.
============================================
says the politician
with his hands stuffed
deep in the pockets
of some social advocacy
group.
=============================================
People dying for lack of
food, shelter, and clothing.
We send troops out to take
away the guns of these
oppressors in some far-off
corner of the world, costing
us billions of dollars and
a few almost unnoticed lives
of troops posing as diplomatic
envoys for the righteous world.
A man stands cold and alone on
a street corner, holding out a
rusted tin cup, forsaking his
dignity in hopes of survival,
as we nickel and dime him to death.
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