Sweat Shop Nightmare

1:16 PM Edit This 0 Comments »
What good is poetry in an age of atrocity?
I give up, they say.
Why pedal poems to people possessed by passiveness?
Why cry out at all if citizens don't cringe at cruelty?
Nike says: "Just do it!"
And behind those words what wall mounts that picture?
Ten million little fingers folding loose leather
For less than can feed their fragmented hearts
Just do it! (endorse slavery)
Killer corporations condone the cracked hearts they create
Calloused foreign hands don't cause commotion in our society
Why has the fire died?
The one that kept peace, hope, and justice alive?
Why write winged-words if no one
Wraps them to their soul so they may fly?
Why are we content to kill ourselves for capitalism
And all that meaningless crap we buy
That damages little hands...
The breaks little hearts...
The vanishes big dreams..
We cut down forests of people
From birth simply because of where they're born
For what?
A beautiful pair of shoes,
A nice shirt,
A well-woven rug...
I don't understand.
Little hands holding large labor -
They should be holding large dreams.

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