My America: Salute to Ginsberg

August 3, 2011 § Leave a comment

America, I am lost in your republic of good.
Most days I leave my home with absolutely no thought of
what is happening
Around me.
America, what the hell is the penny about?
I can’t buy anything with one cent.
I would like to buy your patriotism for a cent.
America, Why do you torture me?
Can you tell me where is the elephant in the room?
I see…he is hiding behind your federal style chair,
On his tiptoes. But, your already tall!
Twinkle toes and cherry picking…America. Stop it.
You can do better!
America, why do I cringe at everything I pick up in the store?
My stereo is weighing down my neighbor’s back,
Making him bleed. His pets are tied to the tree, suffering
For me…America.
Chains and ropes, America.
Chains and ropes with splinters.
Life cycle assess-a-monster.
My cubicles are swollen and puffy, there aren’t any more cowbells.
Slaughter house number zillion. Call me sally and lie to my face in the morning.
America, America, you have lost me at hello.
I remember a couple of days ago, when I could not breathe. Day number four and I could
Not breathe.
America, where are the mountains?
Muffin top removal, America?
Move over, so we can sandpaper-cement another byway or sky-way.
Who the fuck do you think you are America?
Stand tall, above the rest…this is nothing new.
Sail around the dead zone, waterways stagnant…duck livers burst from exhaustion.
If I had a hammer…America, I
Would smash your face to pieces.
No, I’m sorry…I would knock you out,
For your own good.
Caleb, JC, Stranger #1, 2, 3 and over 4,000 god bless you today.
Internal war or Washington’s war…today it is all the same.
God leaves no leaf unturned,
Gaia, hear my mind and free toxic matter from my fingernails.
Organic furry tails and apples, rhubarb and anything else…make the channel fuzzy.
But I am listening, America.
Closet racists, everywhere. It’s ok, I have a walk-in closet. And I wear a uniform everyday.
I’m in disguise.
People who write and read aloud for everyone to hear are egotistical. Who are you, and why should I
Listen to what you have to say?
I’m not special and neither are
Neither is your priest or your mother.
I yearn for days, for freedom from fatal distraction.
And there I am America,
In the itchy flourescent aisle,
Eyes glazed over trying to decide between high-fructo-death or organic-semantics.
Don’t give me choices America,
Just tell me what to do, it’s all getting to hard.
Day after day, night after night,
Equidistant from my house to yours, the same ole delays.
Exhaustion…I tell you…utter exhaustion.
But, enough…lets share today.
Lets talk about the things that tickle us.
Move me, seduce me, hollow me out.
I can’t believe what happens to you America.
When the lights go out.
You rob the convenience store,
American-owned, by the way.
America, America, bullet to the head.
You make it hard to love you.
Even though I wake up everyday, sweating, worn to the bone core,
Dreaming about you.
I love you, I love you.


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