We were the slaves masters of old
Cold heartdly we bought and we sold
In humans we deemed no better than animals
We said they used black magic and were cannibals
Money grew in our accounts penned by scribes
We set them free eventually
Situated them in ghettos residentially
A man called martin fought for their equality
While we used our rights with frivolity
But still they have to fight to fight for their rights
But still racism is ugly enough to cause a fright
So when I give money to oxfam understand
I still have that blood guilt on my hands
No matter how much money I give

Daniel Hooks

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/guilt-2/