White Folks

Perpetrators of your sort don't pay up.
They seize even more. The cops will look
The other way. Your representatives
Will write whatever laws you need,
And even armies do your bidding.
Thus, your creditors are banished,
Broken, jailed, but not repaid:
The natives who have lost not just
Their lands, but, even worse, their
Tongues, the slaves, still slaves,
Still flogged and hunted, those uprooted
From their homes by wars you waged
And thugs you feted. None presents
You with a bill. Your walls are solid.
You sleep well. You know you'll never pay.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 107 times
Written on 2019-11-12 at 23:07

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