Social Justice Poetry

Plight of the Freelance Underdog | A Social Justice Poem by Allison Grayhurst

A deformed creature who loses arms.
The same cruel senselessness ensues
from those arms of watered-down souls,
corporate drones who feel no obligation to moral kindness
or even simple, obvious justice,
who ride their authority with spiked
stirrups, having no regard for the one
who carries them below or how
hardworking and reliable their steeds have been.
They have taken my meager living and stripped it
even further with reluctant acknowledgment,
with no apology, with knowing
there is nothing I can do.
I am trapped by their lizard-cold power,
trapped by my lack of rights and by their fleeting disregard,
as though I am an ant to be flicked from post to post and then
to be crushed by their whims, where what remains is only the
tightening jaw-grip
of this unionized beast, where what remains is me
determined to leave this affliction, to build my house
on a land of mature self-reliable splendour.

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