I shout with the 99 percent that you sir are wrong.

Your misguided belief that we dislike, abhor, detest and despise

you, some would say hate but I would not want to

see you put up against the same crumbling

partition that is in some measure destroyed with the bullet holes

of the lesser dead, I would not see you strive for martyrdom;

is born out of jealousy,

a suspicion of covetousness and envy,

that your singular belief

that if we don’t have the same level of money as you

then we are feckless, lacking in aspiration

and somehow wanton, not the Christian work ethic

that your forefathers believed as they dispensed charity

with a hidden face of anger nestled

viper like on their shoulders…

 

I implore, perhaps on my own,

the lone voice in a tough and ever growing crowd,

a crowd that you have made with Frankenstein

ambition and snarl Jabberwock crusade,

to think long and hard, to not make mugs

again out of your country folk

who reside outside the one percent,

to whom all is needed is the simple acknowledgement

that you are wrong, that there is no envy, just reality,

that an apology for putting the squeeze,

the ever tightening and wheezing squeeze,

on to the broken necks of those who

gave you power in the vain but glorious hope

that you would give it away…

 

Touch crowd to please,

however the one percent should not be afraid

to stand properly shoulder to shoulder

so that we can all be one hundred

percent, whether in grief, prosperity and hope.

 

Ian D. Hall 2015