Slavery In Motion Poem by Josephe Buchanan

Mexicans being treated like blacks without the noose. Troops sent to
war, for an unknown cause. The hang man is not a game and the song of
crying freeman is without the refrain. Modern indentured slaves push
economies, the same impoverish dedicated servants are labeled
minorities. Nine to five is like the long slow death of the methadone
line. Music is screened by the master who keeps the masters. No
outlet to speak freely, no dreams to defer. The media is televised to
tell visual lies, while master teachers are lock away with no Keys Of
Enoch. Reliving the blues, with fear as the agenda for the nightly news.
We say we are free? I feel sorry for those who think they are
privileged. Women are moving in this patriarchal, testosterone based melting pot of power, confined to secondary markets, jobs, and roles. The pure planet is the oldest slave subjected to the will of her spawn. Only to
be destroyed by her offspring. The animal both beast and human. Who's
more civil? Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a loco
motive, more deadly than cancer. Is it the devil, or the machine? It
is....... Slavery in motion