Stories of hunger and poverty were all too familiar in my early childhood. Breadlines, soup kitchens and exploitation of poor and desperate people made me feel grateful that I was born into the "recovery" era. That I'd find myself working with the hungry and poor victims ot the "new reality" forty years later would have been unthinkable.
THEN AND NOW
The sound of passing streecars
Clanging in my head
Waiting in the breadline
Hungry children to be fed
Massive unemployment
Seeking jobs in vain
Bankers getting richer
On your misery and pain
Corpulent politicians
Grossly overfed
Assembled to determine
How much more you can be bled
You must have heard this Story
Many times before
I heard it from my parents
About the days of yore
I found it entertaining then
I'm not laughing anymore
Take away the streetcars
And its 1984
The July 1983 Budget, the ensuing cuts to social services, erosion of Human rights, and the unprecedented
outrage of the electorate of Britiish Columbia as they took to the streets in protest unleashed the emotion in me that produced the next poem. The fact that the government continued their attacks with seeming disregard for hardships about to be imposed, filled me with grief. My feelings were shared by many British Columbians. This is an account of my honest and heartfelt feelings at that time.
A PROVINCE IN MOURNING
As the death knell tolls and the aged cry
For the rights and freedoms they see die
Little children wonder why
There's a pall accross the Province
Innocents too young to know
That when liberty is dealt a blow
Fear and hatred quickly grow
Like a plague across the Province
There are those who like to claim
The people have themselves to blame
They must wear the cloak of shame
Draped around the Province
For they were the electorate
Who put the mighty sword 'Mandate"
In the hands that turned on them with hate
Slashing through the Province
Believing in the rich mans creed
That workers must be kept in need
To satisfy the power and greed
Of the few who run the Province
Yes, there were those who made a stand
Too few to stay the mighty hand
Of the Lord and his marauding band
Who plundered through the Province
So the death knell tolls and the aged cry
For the rights and freedoms they see die
And the innocents who'll soon know why
There's a pall across the Province
When the jobless in B.C. had been starved to the point of desperation, Expo 86 with its promise of something for everyone was dangled like a carrot on a stick.
During the many heated discussions over the pros and cons of Expo it became very apparent to me that the government had done its job very well.
A conversation between two unemployed workers gave me back some faith.
"Right now I'd go to work anywhere for any wage" said the first. "I know how you feel ," said his friend " but I'll keep fighting to make things better for both of us".
EXPOSE
Without the slightest hesitation
"The Devil" drafted legislation
Inviting bloody confrontation
In his power game
All his talk of consultation
Was but idle conversation
To convince the population
He was not to blame
Though he spoke of intervention
It was never his intention
To ease the climate of dissention
Prevailing in the land
For while you starved in misery
He was watching you with glee
Cutting, slashing, ruthlessly
Till he played his hand
For with your cupboards stark and bare
You'll take wages less than fair
And kill your brother if he dare
Sing a Union song
But, brothers cannot all be brave
Some will work while othrs slave
And end up in a paupers grave
Knowing they were wrong
A televison talk show host who's featured guests included highly skilled, highly educated , unemployed men and women protesting the lack of jobs in B.C. gave me the idea for the next poem. Two things ocurred to me as I watched and liistened. Being an unemployed executive who coulldn't find a job was no more or less shocking than being and unemployed labourer who couldnt find a job. The divide and conquer tactic being being used by government was very dangerous. Unemployment is the common ground they stand on.
THE COMMON DENOMINATOR
Perhaps you earned a salary ten times as much as mine
Your dreams perhaps were far more grand than mine
You may have worn the finest clothes and dined on caviar
And only drank the best imported wine
You may have been a graduate of some prestegious place
With friends who spoke in abstracts just like you
Who laughed about the ignorance of people just like me
And thought themselves among the chosen few
You may have kept your fingernails immaculately clean
Perhaps you had a manicure or two
You may have had to play a role and dress to suit the part
What in common then have I with you?
I used to earn a salary
I used to dream my dreams
I used to do my share of laughing too
I thought I was the lucky one
I dressed to suit my work
I thought I had a future just like you
So brother wont you take my hand and let me share your pain
And I in turn will let you share in mine
Which one of us would have believed that we'd be meeting thus
Waiting in the unemployment line
