Superman

Born I think, not on the planet Krypton,But in the mind of the male bulliedOn those baking plains of the SavannahWhere dreams and nightmares were firstTurned, like meat over a spit, intoFood for those fresh, young minds.We do not know much of their lives,But we know how unfettered strengthSoon carves its vision of right and wrongInto the ways things just have to be.

He began to don his snazzy uniformAnd free himself from earth’s commandIn the land which was free from red IndiansAnd niggers who marched to be free.Mild-mannered Clark Kent was whiteAs the perfect white picket fenceWhich fenced in the perfect white family.He took flight and helped the weakIn the comic world when in that other worldWhere men lingered in long queuesDesperate to work, and Jews lingeredOn the edge of despair – few raised a finger.

He still flies over the land of the free,But I doubt he’s strong enoughTo break down walls - made of stone,Steel, or the mind of a primitive bully.