Bent and Beat

you talk so much about change
how about you spare some for your brother
but you pass him head down on the streets
every day
i have struck that right check enough
turn your left upon me
you sniveling blue mongrels and bitches
you think it's a game because you are tired of the killing
now
and your wallets are empty
but change doesn't come easy
fucking fools
it doesn't come from a magical machine and the lever you pull
once the landslide begins, it's to late for the pebbles to vote
and you are pebbles casting stones for pebbles
perhaps smoother but still pebbles
your statesmen are as limp and useless as your sense of justice and fairness
we march in empty streets and preach in empty churches
even if our brothers speak the truth
you'll never listen
you say you are one of us
but you don't' know anything about
selma
freeman field
emma goldman
mother jones
rigoberta menchu
das kapital
subcomandante marcos
you say you are of the american people
yet you know nothing of its history
of the culture that has created and subdued you
and you know nothing of those of us who work our fingers
cracked and bloody to eke out a living
and struggle to pay the rent
who go for days with emptying cupboards
like sand in an hourglass, morsel by morsel until payday
or the old man in the electric wheelchair checking his mail
by the bustling street in a small town
where jobs are dying as quickly as dreams
you who think rise up is some catchy line in a song
we should drive the empty slogans from your voices by shoving our raised fists down your throats