Classism, Apparent

(Written October 2016)

I see it everywhere. No, really, like, everywhere.

Just like heat evaporates hot water, a heated discussion between any two strangers always comes down to money.

The bigger the bag you carry to work, the lower of a class you belong to.

The way you get to work, the way you’re dressed, puts the haves and have nots on display

We’re all a part of it, this ugly, pyramidal structure that we see every working day.

I’m so desensitized to homeless people wasting away, little by little, right in front of me, but what do I do? Keep my gaze forward, and keep moving, ’cause ‘I got work to do.’

We all have a place to be, to show up by a certain time, and drive the money up for someone else, higher up;

Profits trickle down, sure, but by the time the fresh bounty of ‘profits’ travel to the lowest level,

the paupers have to hang on tight to their earnings while the white-suited man a top the watch tower sips on his gin and mutters under his breath ‘those degenerates need to get it together.’

This is a capitalist’s world, where money is god, and the more ‘god’ you have, the more of a god you are. – RSM