“Black guys play the black card.”
That’s how white people said it
Before they made the Master Card
And gave themselves the credit.
*This poem contains no mention of American Express because I couldn’t think of a good “Underground Railroad” joke, and also no one uses American Express.
If all white people are racists
And support the KKK
It makes me see Hagrid
In an entirely new way.
I opened a bottle of root beer
And smiled at the sweetness and fizz.
You probably don’t think that sounds racist
But I’m white, so it probably is.
Forty-thousand years ago
I was not yet born.
There was no clear cut logging,
Slow wi-fi or GMO corn.
The Federal Reserve
Had some cash they’d yet to spend
And there’d never been a war
Designed to have no end.
Alas, what we have now’s
Not what we had.
I guess that I should probably say
A school shooting three times a year
Is worse than the crusades.
Sixty-eight cents on a man’s dollar
Is worse than not getting paid.
All the knowledge in the world
Is just a finger tap away,
But it can’t match the tribal elders
Saying “stone that guy. He’s gay.”
Despite the stained glass windows
God’s our middle-eastern dad,
So from this white guy to the world:
Oops, my bad.