'The Chasm of -Isms - a poem

I'm fairly certain when bread was broken,
people did not feel the need to share. Bread
purchased in good-faith off store shelves,
packaged my manned-machinery, baked
by traditional means, from a recipe of grandmother
but now served at table for silver-platter guest.

Machine shop powered my people
mechanical, machinations, operations
guided by hands of workers, dirty,
disheveled, paid half time, dirtied,
sweat pouring, but ultimate deceleration
of independence said don't share it,
don't spread it, don't pay them enough,
nor invest back into nation. Your dime earned.

Good books do not spit out condemnation
for children born to people, who weren't born
to people, who weren't born to people who
were willing to devote much time because systems
set up to charge too much interest, to predatory
attack under educated, or draw up district lines,
so that all obstacles were setup to discourage
participation in wealth games. Some had to push
through, but good books never said poor were poor
they deserved it, or that races wanted to stay
put because they liked it. That was mankind
who said so, and mankind alone.

As grandmother baked the bread, mother
did too, and daughter saw how, and system
was continued from one turn to another
and little worlds turned, rotated as they should,
on a globe, axis-spun. Nowhere does it say
to demonize, for the dreams of one father,
are typically the same for their children,
dreams that children get to be one step further,
to accomplish what they couldn't.

How faulty to determine judgement
when great eyes can see it all, sovereign
pupils spying peoples as all they do,
noticing temptations, tribulations,
and power of hateful people to cause
painful action upon those we love.

How faulty to ignore goodhearted
hearts, entwined, for prideful boasting,
embarrassment, caused eruption to spark
feverish, demonize the future that two hearts
already see with hand in hand in hand,
of future most glorious of children laughing,
sons and daughters and dreaming up next
steps for planet earth.

From wall street, down to main street,
from town square, to farmed field,
on foot, in air, on wheels, engines of
progress propelling time forward,
and consequences of unspoken evil still
spiraling out loud, why shouldn't good people
speak up, raise alarm, and why should
naysayers feign shock at outrage, when every generation
has cried out,
Let My People Go.