A Slowly Dying Canada
- C. Taylor
My country, Canada, is falling ill.
it is colder, and a shadow obscures the sun,
A shadow called poverty, the cold of fear.
We fear for our lives now.
Losing our jobs to machines,
robot assembly lines, and computers
do the jobs that thousands
used to do.
It was supposed to be better,
more efficient,
but instead it concentrates
more money
to a smaller few,
while the rest lose their houses and dreams,
the "human cost of downsizing".
My Canada is increasingly
a country of broken hopes,
poverty and futility
creating directionless hostility
We try to hurt others
as if that would heal
our own pain.
Can you blame my brothers ?
They attack immigrants and women
dog eat dog
because there aren't enough jobs
to keep us fed.
We work to survive
hand to mouth
Contentedness is unimaginable
It was getting better for a time,
but the hunger is setting in,
and it will get worse.
They are without hope.
There are no loans for small businesses
The big, old ones are laying off
We are denied credit
or any true way to rebuild it
There are no places for us,
the loose pieces,
to fit
And the government has the the gall
to blame us for being poor
If we speak out,
cry for mercy
they set the police on us
find ways to lock us up
for our small vices.
We are the media scapegoat
mouths bound,
minds whirling
Is it any wonder
that the gangs of youth
are disillutioned
and turning to violence ?
They cannot hope
to own a house
or feed and clothe a child
My Canada is dying
and I cannot stop it's death,
though I may try with my art
to give it hope,
Art is worth nothing
to speak of it's worth is wasted breath
Our artists and craftsmen starve,
our culture dissolves,
and I can only watch,
remembering
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From the book
"The Butcher's Block: Poems of Poverty"
by Chris Taylor
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Listen to it here: http://radio3.cbc.ca/bands/A-Voice-of-Dissent---Archetripal/
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