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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Opinion · #1404088
On the stealing of America by the white man
Some people believe they're immune...

With feet entrenched, how opportune

One century is but a blink

But long enough for minds to shrink


To drying fruit of once ripe vine

For what is yours---what is not mine

I've never seen you in the field

Or frying french fries by the yield


I have pulled wagons in the sun

Cleaned houses, cooked, your laundry done

Be careful what you're wishing for

Illegal imports man the store---


The store you visit for your food

That drive-thru where you're always rude

No pleasantries, no driving force

No manners, haughty, no remorse


'Man the border, make them all pay---

Shoot them dead, chunk them in the clay'

How dare we want a finer day---

A fighting chance, and better pay?


You steal the hopes of dreams so grand

In the belief you own this land

With deed to plat and eyes so blind

Your rights cannot be far behind


For as the red man surely found

Penned promises won't hold your ground

And when you live the poor man's plight

Embrace it, bringer of the blight


Jaded, and wrapped in happenstance

The universe's fateful dance

Bringing full circle what we owe

Through fertile harvest of the sow

























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