A Poor Man Said

A Poor Man Said

It’s an abomination that the rich don’t take care of the poor; that there are political leaders who set things up for the rich to thrive at the expense of the middle class. And the poor be damned; they are too far gone to matter, written off, a blight on the well-to-do’s vision of an aristocratic society where everything is fluffy and rosy, cakes and tea, a hot bath before dinner time. They allow the rich to step on their backs, to drive it home, and forget them more. No one should have a billion dollars if they are not giving back. No one should have a million dollars when there are people who have nothing but a dirty needle and syringe to give them hope. No one should have a house when there are those who can only find a shoddy cardboard box to rest their weary eyes. Why should those with money live and those without it die. That is not a civilization to strive for.

     Everyone should have the same worth, money nonexistent, that is the state things should be, you rich, greedy bastards who don’t take care. You should be put on immediate notice that times have changed and you will be held accountable for the blinders you wear and the pain you cause. You should gain status on how much you help someone else; how much sacrifice you make; not how much life you can suck out of a down-trodden soul. It is our obligation, to not only be nice to other people (and animals), but to seek out those who need help and help them, really help them, not throw them a dime. Saint Francis said something to this effect, and if there were ever a saint who could have turned me religious, it would have been him. A poor man come out of his hole to seek some light, who I think had lived in a grungy culvert with rats for ten years, or something like that, once said, “I am not asking for a hand out or your condescending pity. I am not looking to take what is yours. I just want you to take your boot heel off my neck so I can fucking breathe.”