Poverty By Rote

Where's the dialogue between the rich and the poor Those who have and stand tall—those left behind to crawl. What we require is a poet in residence Like the one at Fremont Bridge with two testicles; The one that crosses Lake Washington Ship Canal In part might keep both sides happy - rational. In France, the yellow vests movement are making protests In Hong Kong, there are anti-extradition protests Governments the world over are short on hearing. Their benevolence always to be endearing To the bankers and their corrupt party sponsors And in England-always in the New-year honour's Where's the dialogue, where's the bridge and where's the voice Of reason and justice, who listens to our noise? Our castrated expressions are strangled at birth, But it is we cast out like-so-much afterbirth With a birth certificate, ownership papers A number, raise up glass-ceilinged ladders But the future is shaped by each generation That holds a ballot box vote affiliation Wavers to decide between the choices of two? Nothing changes no one is ever overthrew Only the hoodwinked, gullible allowed a vote The child brought-up-in constant poverty by rote.