All By My Self, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

The guy at the top at the Amazon shop
The Windows guy makes your computer fly
The blue bird killer wants a rocket thriller

The straps of the boot got them all that loot
That ilk may have you believe they did it all alone
Mute point because it isn’t physically possible

That Bezos guy with the billionaire pie
Employees 1.6 million people worldwide
Arrogant pride a comment so snide

No Jeff, you did not load every truck
You did not load every plane
You did not deliver every package

They did. You run the company
Nobody denies that. The bottom line stat
Is that you did not do it all by yourself.
(end)

I am so sick of the bullshit slur that I am a communist for simply saying workers matter and the owners of mega corporations DO NOT do all the work. It is physically impossible.

The only way you can do all the work is if you own a hotdog stand and you are the only one serving people. Even then, someone had to make the hot dogs to sell to you to sell. Someone had to bake the bread for you to buy to sell.

Someone had to build the roads your supplies traveled on to to get to your business. If you had a business degree, a professor had to teach you. Someone at the cafeteria at that college had to make the food both you and your professor ate. Someone had to make the cloths you wear.

NOBODY EVER DOES ANYTHING BY THEMSELVES.

You are reading this poem now, because of a lifetime of teachers and reading and experiences in everyday mundane life. You are reading this poem because some obscure scientist you don’t remember that never got world famous, contributed to the evolution of computers, because it was not one person, or one patent or even one country.

You are reading this poem because someone , long before I was born bothered to educate Sylvia Plath, and because of her teachers, and the the distribution truck driver eventually delivered my first every book of poetry to the book store 30 years ago, you are reading this poem now. If it were not for countless people I never would have had that Plath book in my hands. And it was because of that book, I decide to never stop writing poetry.

In that 30 years countless people gave me the opportunity to have the time to write every poem I have and unknown people who have become my muses.

Unlike some self centered jaded billionaires, not all, but it seems far too many, I can admit, and am willing to admit. I DID NOT DO IT ALL BY MYSELF.

And a final note. I don’t even care if I get rich from my poetry. It is payment enough to know someone got joy out of it.

(Disclaimer: Even if those mentioned in that poem have never said it, the poem is metaphor for the others in that class that may have said it. This poem is strictly metaphor )

It is just basically saying, if you are sitting on top, don’t crap on shoulders you are standing on.