Walkin on Air
America, America: Where has Your Virtue Gone?
The years slip by arrogantly
without feeling, void of meaning,
Land of the Free was once for me:
the sun rising: emotion of the moment,
pride of being now shimmering as a distant mirage
of constitutional cookies and candy strewn about
in the delusion of a warm summer breeze
preambling the upcoming storm;
‘Justice, Honor, Righteousness' …
My soul searches for a few scraps of decency
among the rotting leftovers of political turds.
Like some stillborn scarecrow I hover
over the failing fruit of objectivist democracy,
my disillusioned spirit leaning on the ‘Dias of Delusions'
where senators and congressmen expose their crass ablutions
in fatal breaths of laboring lungs
emitting billowing waves of putrid lies:
carelessness disguised as helping hands of condition
carried on the winds of selfish whisper
proclaiming the residual evolution of lost liberty
that once abounded in the wells of America.
Make haste my heart, make haste!
Advance boldly and unveil the travesty:
let the few who can see come near
to imbibe the wild honey dribbling in drops of truth
off my killer-bees-nest glistening in the sunrays
of God's yet to be withdrawn grace
as were it a feast of red raspberry pie, vanilla ice-cream
and fizzy soda-pop.
No longer can I teach my children
what I believed would never end;
my voice as theirs have been trudged down,
shunned away by homeland security myths
trampled under rank violations of our constitutional rights
to be kept silent even unto death or incarceration.
I used to tell them eagles would soar higher and higher,
our beloved land would soothe the weeping of widows:
gentle and sweet songs of love would still ‘broken hearts'
‘broken families', the victims of insensitive war gods.
Stray thought of avarice has conquered our government
hitchhiking on megalomaniacal retentive sphincter emissions
of irresponsible excuses as idolaters filthy tongues wag,
their abject shame covered in menstrous rag,
tick-tock clock knocks on the door:
how long will we have to spill innocent blood of our soldiers?
My days thus float away shrouded in swaths of coffee tablecloth
framed with abject longing of what once was.
Oh what would I say to my beloved America, would it but harken?
Dead leaves scatter aloft breezes;
love is opportunity: never wasted time-shares
where open minds know
bereavement follows us all.
Hope cries out loud: "Share! Horde not!"
Lovelight's shadow partly covers stray bullets
dispensed by school going offspring
waiting high in the larch of hatred;
cumbersome, lugging legal guns prepared
as trustworthy, patient, timeless…
America's the fallen tree in-the woods
spoken for long ago, crashed down
while roaring though the moment you never heard.
But, look again over there, still fallen,
and yet as another whatever
surrounded wherever therein might be: Here? There? Now? How?
"Search your heart, come and find me,
America, you were my friend!"
Tear-ducts are cried dry and no longer blind the rape:
only regrets remain: why did I not do something before?
Revolution takes time, gold and blood: tears are finished,
accounts and vaults of patience brim over with
Prophetic Poetry to ponder…
without feeling, void of meaning,
Land of the Free was once for me:
the sun rising: emotion of the moment,
pride of being now shimmering as a distant mirage
of constitutional cookies and candy strewn about
in the delusion of a warm summer breeze
preambling the upcoming storm;
‘Justice, Honor, Righteousness' …
My soul searches for a few scraps of decency
among the rotting leftovers of political turds.
Like some stillborn scarecrow I hover
over the failing fruit of objectivist democracy,
my disillusioned spirit leaning on the ‘Dias of Delusions'
where senators and congressmen expose their crass ablutions
in fatal breaths of laboring lungs
emitting billowing waves of putrid lies:
carelessness disguised as helping hands of condition
carried on the winds of selfish whisper
proclaiming the residual evolution of lost liberty
that once abounded in the wells of America.
Make haste my heart, make haste!
Advance boldly and unveil the travesty:
let the few who can see come near
to imbibe the wild honey dribbling in drops of truth
off my killer-bees-nest glistening in the sunrays
of God's yet to be withdrawn grace
as were it a feast of red raspberry pie, vanilla ice-cream
and fizzy soda-pop.
No longer can I teach my children
what I believed would never end;
my voice as theirs have been trudged down,
shunned away by homeland security myths
trampled under rank violations of our constitutional rights
to be kept silent even unto death or incarceration.
I used to tell them eagles would soar higher and higher,
our beloved land would soothe the weeping of widows:
gentle and sweet songs of love would still ‘broken hearts'
‘broken families', the victims of insensitive war gods.
Stray thought of avarice has conquered our government
hitchhiking on megalomaniacal retentive sphincter emissions
of irresponsible excuses as idolaters filthy tongues wag,
their abject shame covered in menstrous rag,
tick-tock clock knocks on the door:
how long will we have to spill innocent blood of our soldiers?
My days thus float away shrouded in swaths of coffee tablecloth
framed with abject longing of what once was.
Oh what would I say to my beloved America, would it but harken?
Dead leaves scatter aloft breezes;
love is opportunity: never wasted time-shares
where open minds know
bereavement follows us all.
Hope cries out loud: "Share! Horde not!"
Lovelight's shadow partly covers stray bullets
dispensed by school going offspring
waiting high in the larch of hatred;
cumbersome, lugging legal guns prepared
as trustworthy, patient, timeless…
America's the fallen tree in-the woods
spoken for long ago, crashed down
while roaring though the moment you never heard.
But, look again over there, still fallen,
and yet as another whatever
surrounded wherever therein might be: Here? There? Now? How?
"Search your heart, come and find me,
America, you were my friend!"
Tear-ducts are cried dry and no longer blind the rape:
only regrets remain: why did I not do something before?
Revolution takes time, gold and blood: tears are finished,
accounts and vaults of patience brim over with
Prophetic Poetry to ponder…
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America, America: Where has Your Virtue Gone?
America, America: Where has Your Virtue Gone?