Rich men with politicians in their pockets promise me things like equality and control over my own body hiss and lie their way to the white marble throne.
He hides his forked tongue behind his white razor grin, and drops change in my empty, wanting cup instead.
If it was silver coins I wanted, I would find the fountain of youth, and scoop out bucketfuls from the bottom.
I am starving for hope, and thirsting for a place to plant my feet and stand.
Don't throw me change, plant me a forest. Lush, and green, and teeming with intelligent life.
Build me great temples devoted to learning and art, not false idols who seek my condemnation.
I have no use for selective, vengeful pale faced gods who hate and smite.
Talk with me, and break bread. Break bread, not the backs of those who make your shirts. Shirts expensive enough to feed your flock, and give the overworked so longing for rest some relief.
You, who have never known what it is to want for anything, why do you deserve to sit in that grea