Each month, write a new collection.
August 17 “America” by Allen GinsbergA silent quiet land is America. Is the America I know.The social construct has left me. The internet took over.Any sort of collective experience happens there in a wayAnd place that makes me cringe. My idea of America is The memory of a Friday night that I haven’t had in a long,Long time. I’m not even sure it’s there, that type of Pop Culture.The pop culture cycle being a necktie caught in a paper shredder.A place for good guys and bad guys and things that happenTo people. I have stopped thinking about America, the partAbout the people that are always found in the same placesAnd the natural land away from buildings and roads this isThe America about which I’m thinking. It’s a place without peopleA place where you and observe the passing of the day.Think about it any other way and you’ll have poison in your bowels.
After Allen Ginsberg"America"The Great ExperimentEver wonder what has gone wrong?The faith of many in this Institution called AmericaToday justice for all is for just a few who choose to voteWith their greenbacksAnd win freedom that blacksAre apt to revoltWe no longer are dovesSince we fly dronesas they are hometo killing in the chillingfactor abroadJust across the borderthere is disorder and lawlessnessis odd to the skepticalThe cynical, the political power ridiculed at bestWho is a President that leadswith the elements of corruptionand greed with unrestThe New World Order has a viewfor the olderTry to imagineBeing without Home or food and hungerhomelessness is the numberof people equaling a shoutIn the street to the heatShooting the feet as we layflat on our backsThe number of causes are numb to the losses and pausesto see the land split in twoRepublican and DemocratThe political epitaph of the racefor power and the pullTowards democracyWhat kind of hypocrisyhas a mandate where little to nonehave the soulto take actionWhen dissatisfactionis all that is left beautifulMy God the countryis nothing like something the Forefathersever envisionedThe shootings keep rollingGlobal warming controlling the landscape we can't escapefromThe passionate to change the politicsstrange saying things we cannot bearThe real is to healfrom the feeling to concealthe truth as proof the world lives on the brinkAs America thinks the poorare for war declaredWhen the rich only get richerAnd the bitch is we all shiverat the bombs we deliver over thereWhen it comes back to bite the hand despite the landwherewe can standfor repair