I grew up here, in America where tyranny is spoon fed into the dreams of stark souls across the globe in it’s humble masquerade as democracy. Well, I love the idea, but in practice it tastes like shit. I am tired of spitting out the broken pieces of freedom, tired of the sharp shards cutting up my mouth when I try to speak out. I leave a trail of sparkling saliva next to the bum on the corner and to him maybe this is a way of life, but why does he take the pieces and try to fit them in his jacket like there is nothing more interesting to do in a night? We are the suited, the cigar smoking brandy drinking, triple heart bypass bull riding, oil thieving MINORITY. Instead of raising our eyes to the sky reality cinches in its belt buckle a hole or two and the whole circle, surrounds you, chanting and beating and drumming our feet like you could hear such a primal, true rhythm with your ears full of bombs and twangy country songs. And instead of raising our eyes to the sky we raise our glasses into an amber kaleidoscope and toast the wheezing veins of the workhorse that drops gold in our pockets. Hell, it’s capitalism (did some one say jingoism)it’s not jingoism. After all democracy rules the world, so we shall rule the world. He who makes the rules shall have the oil and those who toil endlessly for one small corner in which to etch out their lives are lost in the stampede of poverty fueled by greed. I don’t think it’s right. In Africa poor families only eat hope for breakfast yet in Texas a man with a wand waves dismissively and all the money that we could have spent to feed children is spent to kill them a camel’s ride to the north. You are one poor mother-fucking wizard. Stutter over your spells, I am amazed that the puppets play so easily in your hands. Where are those that demand justice? When will there be justice!? Violence is not my forte, but in this world guns and bombs are child’s play, just look left mama, look away. And while we are breeding hate that will bleed the world dry let’s raise our glasses to the sky and get so fucking hammered that we can cry ourselves to sleep.
Wow, I really dug this. It seems like a "poetic essay", and it literally took my breath away (I have asthma).
this poem is good in its structure very solid with original images. the use of concrete and abstract pairings work very well. one stanza i would say became more of a prose than a poem, but that is o.k. because the rest of the poem is extremely strong writing. wonderful job. keep working and loving words.
