Hinanya Kematian Mustafa Kemal Attatürk yang Dikenal sebagai ‘Bapak Modernisasi Turki’ dari perspektif Barat, dia sebenarnya adalah tokoh yang meng’sekuler’kan dan ‘membunuh’ syiar Islam di Turki. Siapa lagi jika bukan Mustafa Kemal Attatürk yang diberi gelar Al-Ghazi (orang yang memerangi). "Attatürk" berarti "Bapak Orang Turki". Attatürk adalah orang yang bertanggung jawab meruntuhkan Khilafah Islam Turki pada tahun 1924. H.S. Armstrong, salah seorang pembantu Attatürk dalam bukunya yang berjudul Al-Zi’bu Al-Aghbar atau Al-Hayah Al-Khasah Li Taghiyyah telah menulis: "Sesungguhnya Attatürk adalah keturunan Yahudi, nenek moyangnya adalah Yahudi yang pindah dari Spanyol ke pelabuhan Salonika". Golongan Yahudi ini dinamakan dengan Yahudi "Daunamah" yang terdiri dari 600 keluarga. Mereka mengaku beragama Islam hanya sebagai identitas, tetapi masih menganut agama Yahudi secara diam-diam. Ini diakui sendiri oleh bekas Presiden Israel, Yitzak Zifi, dalam bukunya Daunamah terbitan tahun 1957. Attatürk mengubah ucapan Assalamualaikum menjadi Marhaban Bikum (Selamat Datang), melarang menggunakan busana Islam dan sebaliknya mewajibkan memakai pakaian ala Barat. Dalam tempo beberapa tahun saja, dia berhasil menghapuskan perayaan Hari Raya Idul Fitri dan Hari Raya Idul Adha serta melarang kaum muslim menunaikan ibadah Haji, melarang poligami dan melegalkan perkawinan wanita muslim dengan non muslim. Dia membatalkan libur pada hari Jum'at, melarang adzan dalam bahasa Arab dan menggantinya dengan bahasa Turki. Tindakan yang dilakukan oleh Attatürk ini nyata sekali telah memisahkan budaya Turki dari akar agama Islam dan menghapuskan Islam sebagai agama resmi negara Turki. Attatürk berusaha keras untuk menghancurkan para penentangnya. Dia membakar majelis-majelis, menangkap para pimpinan majelis dan juga mengawasi para ulama. Attatürk pernah menegaskan bahwa “negara tidak akan maju kalau rakyatnya tidak cenderung kepada pakaian modern”. Dia menggalakkan minum arak secara terbuka, mengubah Al-Quran yang kemudian dicetak dalam bahasa Turki. Bahasa Turki sendiri diubah dengan membuang unsur-unsur Arab dan Parsi. Attatürk mengubah Masjid Besar Aya Sofia menjadi gereja dan setengahnya untuk musium, menutup masjid serta melarang shalat berjamaah, menghapuskan Kementerian Wakaf dan membiarkan anak-anak yatim dan fakir miskin. Dia membatalkan undang-undang waris, faraid secara Islam, menghapus penggunaan kalendar Islam dan mengganti huruf Arab ke dalam huruf Latin. Attatürk mengganggap dirinya tuhan sama seperti firaun. Ketika itu ada seorang prajurit ditanya “siapa tuhan dan di mana tuhan tinggal?” karena takut, prajurit tersebut menjawab "Kemal Attatürk adalah tuhan”, dia tersenyum dan bangga dengan jawaban yang diberikan. Saat-saat menjelang kematiannya, Allah mendatangkan kepadanya beberapa penyakit yang membuatnya tersiksa dan tak dapat menanggung azab yang Allah berikan di dunia, diantaranya penyakit kulit dimana dia merasakan gatal di sekujur tubuh. Dia juga menderita penyakit jantung dan darah tinggi. Kemudian rasa panas sepanjang hari, tidak pernah merasa sejuk sehingga pompa air dikerahkan untuk menyirami rumahnya selama 24 jam. Attatürk juga menyuruh para pembantunya untuk meletakkan kantong-kantong es di dalam selimut untuk membuatnya sejuk. Maha Suci Allah, walau telah berusaha keras, tidak ada yang dapat mereka lakukan untuk mengusir rasa panas itu. Oleh karena tidak tahan dengan panas yang dirasakan, dia menjerit sangat keras hingga seluruh istana mendengarnya. Karena tidak tahan mendengar jeritan, para pembantunya membawa Attatürk ke tengah lautan dan diletakkan dalam kapal dengan harapan beliau akan merasa sejuk. Maha Besar Allah, panasnya tak juga hilang!! Pada 26 September 1938, dia pingsan selama 48 jam disebabkan panas yang dirasakannya dan kemudian sadar tetapi dia hilang ingatan. Pada 9 November 1938, dia pingsan sekali lagi selama 36 jam dan akhirnya meninggal dunia. Ketika itu tidak ada yang mau mengurus jenazahnya sesuai syariat. Mayatnya diawetkan selama 9 hari 9 malam, sehingga adik perempuannya datang meminta ulama-ulama Turki untuk memandikan, mengkafankan dan menshalatkannya. Tidak cukup sampai disitu, Allah tunjukkan lagi azab ketika mayatnya akan dimakamkan. Sewaktu mayatnya hendak ditanam, tanah tidak menerimanya (tak dapat dibayangkan bagaimana jika tanah tidak menerimanya). Karena tidak diterima tanah, mayatnya diawetkan sekali lagi dan dimasukkan ke dalam musium yang diberi nama EtnaGrafi selama 15 tahun hingga tahun 1953. Setelah 15 tahun mayatnya hendak dikuburkan kembali, tapi Allah Maha Agung, bumi sekali lagi tak menerimanya. Sampai akhirnya mayat Attaturk dibawa ke satu bukit dan disimpan dalam celah-celah marmer seberat 44 ton. Lebih menyedihkan lagi, ulama-ulama yang sezaman dengan Attatürk mengatakan bahwa jangankan bumi Turki, seluruh bumi Allah ini tidak akan menerimanya. Naudzubillah.

I have been gone for a long time
Too long for me to count
But I've been gone doing some thinking
Remembering what my mentor once said
"you know what
Forget this!
Grab hearts with your fist"
So I left the stage
Went into hiding
And grabbed my heart with an open fist
See, Mad Max was nothing
Mus was nothing
Zero is definitely nothing
So why would I call myself any of these names?
Because Mustafa wanted to give them something
Mustafa wanted to give them meaning
But they tried to take over
So I left the scene
And thought about my mentor
"You know what
Forget this"
I knew I had to forget the past
Move my *** forward
And show everyone that Mustafa is back
Back on the center of the stage
Ready to read what I wrote
Speak what I know
Express my feelings and emotions
Unlike those masks
Trying to make me a missing link
In this exhausted world
"Grab hearts with your fist"
I can't help but keep remembering this one line
The line that helped me go beyond what I originally did
And gave me life beyond attempted ******
I mean life beyond a depressed lifestyle
I know where I am now
Why I'm back now
Because of that line
My mentor
My friend
My allies
Mustafa has made a return to the stage
Ready to speak against myself
No ready to speak for the future
NO!
Ready to speak...
For a new change and a new start

Could be I’m on a mission:
Convince the entire world
I am the World's Greatest Living
English Language poet;
Of course, genius such as mine
Goes generally unrecognized until
The posthumous crowd weighs in.
And yet, wouldn’t it be nice?

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Yes, wouldn’t it be nice?
(The Nobel Prize,
Tribute at the Kennedy Center,
A MacArthur Grant,
The Presidential Medal of Honor,
Reverent BJs from hipster groupies . . .
The Poet Laureate in his vicarage,
Enjoying my sweet twilight celebrity.)

(Cue “Guys & Dolls” soundtrack: “What's in the daily news?
I'll tell you what's in the daily news.”)
23: Beheaded at Nigerian Election Rally!
Amanda Knox Gets Away with ****** Again in Italy!
Kung Pow: Silicon Valley Penisocracy Crushes Ellen Pao
German Crash Dummy Co-pilot Flies Jet into the Alps!
Hilary’s Emails Are *****!
Sierra Leone Ebola Lockdown!
Iran: Kooks with Nukes!
Sri Lankan President’s Brother Dies from Ax Wounds!
Saudi Diplomats Evacuate Yemen!
Stampede at Hindu Bathing Ritual, Bangladesh Kills at Least 10!
Simply put:  THE WORLD IS IN A STATE OF ****.

Perhaps it’s time we turn again.
Seek solace in poetry—
“Yeah, chemistry,” insists my Sky Masterson,
My “Guys & Dolls” alter ago.
Surprised? You shouldn’t be.
All poets are gamblers & moonshiners.
We polish our chemical craft,
Sweet-talking the distillation apparatus,
Getting us, getting at linguistic essence.
Cunning linguists are we.
(Colonel Angus, are you back?)
Oyez! Oyez! The gavel raps:
“The Curious Case of Sam Hayakawa.”
We open this hearing to determine
Whether or not S.I. Hayakawa—guilty of
Numerous crimes against humanity & other
Professional Neo-Fascist “entrechats.”--
Whether or not he merits a kinder, gentler
Wikipedia BIO.
(Wikipedia ( i/ˌwɪkɨˈpiːdiə/ or  i/ˌwɪkiˈpiːdiə/ WIK-i-***-dee-ə) Wikipedia)
We open this forum, focusing on his
Courageous stand against the
SDS & Black Panthers, part of
An unlikely coalition: The Worker-Student Alliance
& It’s rival, Joe Hill Caucuses.
Da Name of the Place:
(“I like it like that!” Hot Chelle Rae-“I Like It Like That” lyrics| Metro Lyrics www.metrolyrics.com Lyrics to 'I Like It Like That' by Hot Chelle Rae. “Let's get it on, yeah, y'all can come along/Everybody drinks on me, buy out the bar /Just to feel like I'm.”)
The name of the place: San Francisco State,
1968-69, the longest student strike in U.S. history,
Led successfully to the creation of
Black & Other Ethnic studies programs
On campuses across the country,
And, one could argue,
Gave the green light to
Osama Hussein Obama,
Our first Uncle Tom President.
But I digress.

ACTING SFSU President, Dr. Hayakawa—
Perpetual audition, the pressure on,
Feisty, independent-minded & combative,
Screaming at that skeevy student mob:
(Skeevy as in “He bought the thing from
Some skeevy dude in an alley.")
Declaring “A State of Emergency,”
Calling in the SFPD, whose
Inexplicable slogan says”
“Oro en Paz,
Fierro en Guerra.”
Archaic Spanish for
Gold in peace,
Iron in war, by the by,
For you holdouts,
Those of you who still
Think the “English First Movement”
Breathes life still.
I’ve got more news for you:
That crusade died long ago,
Locked up, dark & shuttered,
Bank Repo thugs, their thick
Neck muscles flexing from side to side,
Sashaying across the parking lot,
Like John Wayne on steroids,
Right up to the front door.)
The SFPD: San Francisco city fuzz,
(As they were known at the time) &
The California National Guard, as well,
Obstreperously, generously catered by
Governor Ronald Wilson Reagan,
(Early stage, Alzheimer’s at the time.
But still very much “The Gypper,”
Still chipper in Sacramento.)
Ronnie--keenly interested in
The Eureka State’s congressional clout,
Lassoes a seat in the U.S. House of Lords:
AKA: The U.S. Senate, SPQR.
It’s still hard . . .

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Still hard to believe that California was once
Rock solid in the clutches of the GOP,
Gripped tightly in the Party’s
Desperate talons. But the grip slipped,
Slipped in the slip-sliding 1970s.
It got harder and harder . . .

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Harder and harder to remind
Leroy & the rest of his ebony posse,
That it was Abraham Lincoln—
“The Great Emancipator” himself—who was,
Our first Republican President.
The Emancipation Proclamation:
That toothless rhetorical flourish,
Based solely on Abe’s
Constitutional authority as
Commander-in-Chief,
Not on a law passed by Congress.
It was just Abe blowing smoke
Up their ***** again,
Just an egalitarian blast from
His Old Kentucky past,
A youth spent splitting rails,
Busting his *** just like
Any plantation ******,
A stark plebeian commonality,
Too deeply etched to be ignored.
Poor Abraham Lincoln:
Probably a **** Creek crypto-Jew,
Neutered by the opposition:
His very own Republican majority Congress,
Another example of the GOP
Shooting off its own foot, right up there
With Mitt Romney’s "47 percent of the people,”
The rhetorical gaffe which cost him his
Second & final shot at the White House.
But I digress.

Senator Sam S.I. Samuel Hayakawa:
That inscrutable Asian fixer, is now U.S. Senator,
Republican, California, 1976-83
Pulpit-bullying his Senate colleagues,
Fiercely opposed to transfer of the
Panama Canal & Panama Canal Zone to
Panama: a diplomatic no-brainer; Duh?
Their freaking name is on both of them.
Senator Sam, obstinate & blustering:
"We should keep the Panama Canal.
After all, we stole it fair and square.”
And Hayakawa, later the driving impetus
Behind the Far Right “English Only” movement.
His co-founding an "Official English"
Advocacy group, U.S. English;
Their party line summarizes their belief:
“The passage of English as the official language will help to expand opportunities for immigrants to learn and speak English, the single greatest empowering tool that immigrants must have to succeed."
That’s how they sold it, anyway.
In sooth: just old-fashioned nativist
Anti-immigration hysteria.

Hayakawa: always the high achiever.
Hayakawa: The Great Assimilator,
Preaching his xenophobic Gospel:
“Immigration Must Be Reduced!”
Aryan rhetoric, of course,
A bi-product of radical authoritarian nationalism,
A movement with deep American roots.
Senator Sam: a Japanese-Canadian-American,
Always tried too hard to fit in.
Sam, comfortable in Chicago during WWII,
Not personally subject to confinement,
Advocated that Japanese-Americans
Submit to FDR’s 1942, Executive Order 9066.
“Time in camp, will eventually work to Japanese advantage."
Later, during the Congressional debate over
The Civil Liberties Act of 1988 . . .
(Passed the House on September 17, 1987 (243–141)
Passed the Senate on April 20, 1988 (69–27, in lieu of S. 1009)
Reported by the joint conference committee on July 26, 1988,
Agreed to by the Senate on July 27, 1988 (voice vote) and
By the House on August 4, 1988 (257–156,
Signed into law by President Ronald Reagan 8/10/88.
He opposed $reparations for WWII internment:
“Japanese-Americans should not
Be paid for fulfilling their obligations."
Some guys, I guess, would say, or
Do anything for Bohemia Club membership.
Plagued by night terrors, nonetheless,
His Manzanar nightmares, his vivid
Imaginary experience at other Japanese
Internment Sites: Tule Lake & Camp Rohwer.
Stalag (German pronunciation: [ˈʃtalak])
Stalags, infamous still,
“Stalags ‘R Us,”
Still palpable memories for
Issei ("first generation")
& Nisei ("second generation").
See: 323 U.S. 214. Korematsu v. United States
(No. 22: Argued: October 11, 12, 1944.
Decided: December 18, 1944.140 F.2d 289.
The opinion, written by Hugo Black,
Chief Justice Harlan Stone, Presiding.)

Hayakawa: a strange duck, of course,
But we mustn’t ignore his strong credentials,
And I’d like to disabuse anyone here
Of the notion that it was anything
Other than his academic record
That got his case to this Forum.
Oyez! Oyez! The gavel raps:
“The Curious Case of Sam Hayakawa.”
So begins this fractured Pardoner’s Tale,
This petition for forgiveness,
The Capo di Tutti Capi,
Presiding: the original Italian mafioso,
His Eminence--the Vicar of Jesus Christ,
The Supreme Pontiff
Pope Paparazzi of Rome!
Roma: the only venue large enough to
Dispense dispensation of this magnitude.

Hayakawa: everyone says his C.V. is “impeccable.”
But did anyone ever freaking Google it?
Just where did Professor Sam go to school?
Undergrad? The University of Manitoba,
Truly, by any Third World Standard
A great bastion of intellectual rigor;
Grad school? McGill and U Wisconsin-Madison.
He was a Canadian by birth,
His academic discipline was Semantics.
(As in “That’s just semantics,”
That all-purpose rejoinder in any argument.)
Professor Hayakawa, The Semanticist,
He taught us: “All thought is sub-vocal speech.”

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Hmmm? We think in words.
The medium of thought is language.
If you grok this for the first time,
Let’s stop to celebrate our enlightenment,
With a cultural nod of respect,
We salute our Islamic brethren.
Radical Islam: the new bogeyman,
Responsible for keeping lights on in Alexandria,
Paying the defense & intelligence bills,
Sustaining that sinister
Military-Industrial complex
Ike warned us about.
Hang in there, Mustafa, old buddy.
Like the Cold War, this insanity
Will eventually blow over.
Orwell’s Oceania will reshuffle
Its deck of global grab-***, and a
New enemy will suddenly appear.
Big Brother, as always,
In the full-control mode,
Simply put: on top of the situation.
So Hurrah!
Allāhu Akbar. “God is Great!
The Takbīr (the term for the
Arabic phrase: usually translated as
"God is [the] greatest.")

“All thought is sub-vocal speech.”
What a simple, yet profound insight!
Just a short hop, skip & jump to the
Realization that, perhaps, the clarity
& Power of our minds can be groomed,
Improved upon by mastery of—
In Sam’s case, anyway--the English Language.
Was this, perhaps, the germ of U.S. English,
The political lobbying organization
He co-founded, dedicated to making
English, the official language of the United States.
Hayakawa: a wooly conservative of his own design;
No wonder Governor Reagan loved him.

Dr. S.I. Hayakawa, a colorful and polarizing
Figure in California politics during the 1960s and 70s.
Can we forgive his daily afternoon naps.
Asleep on the floor of the U.S. Senate,
Leaving California so pathetically,
So ostensibly under-represented.
Senator Sam’s comatose presence at
Washington-on Potomac; the
District of Columbia.
A long time ago,
In a distant galaxy . . .
Far, far away.

TEAR GAS.
Alas, long before he got to Washington,
Long before ever setting foot off campus,
He called for tear gas to
Disperse those pesky college kids.
I repeat myself for emphasis:
He authorized the use of tear gas at SF State.
Tear gas: a lachrymatory agent?
Actually, a potentially lethal
Chemical agent . . .
(Yeah, Chemistry!
To wit: Sgt. Sara Brown,
Referencing “Guys & Dolls” again.)
Outlawed for use during wartime,
Banned in international warfare
Under both the 1925 Geneva Protocol; & the
Chemical Weapons Convention;
“Tear gas:  a weapon of war against
The people. We believe that
Tear gas remains a chemical weapon
Whether used on a battlefield, or city streets.”

Thus, history will be your judge,
You unleashed tear gas on college kids,
So I wouldn’t expect a rep makeover
Any time soon, Ichiye-san, my ichiban friend.

My technology nightmare
Leaves me euphoric this morning.
Addicted, like drug trials,
I knew the risks going in,
Got hooked in The Cloud &
Now it always seems easier,
With diminished psychic chafing
Whenever I go with the flow, as the
Hipsters are saying again.
Yes, the hipsters:
Finally, some kids I can relate to.
At least on some level, their music e.g.
The first thing I did this morning,
Waiting for my laptop to boot,
Was put a CD on the stereo:
Matrix Reloaded: The Album.
I set the shuffle function,
Looping back between
Linkin Park’s Session &
Team Sleep’s Passportal.
You can tell a lot about
What kind of day it will be
By the soundtrack you choose,
Your infinite play list,
Don’t ever say these kids have no culture,
Or nothing to share with us old farts.
Old Farts: an apt, Baby Boomer term in 2015.
Kids’ music, some of it quite good,
Quite 60s-worthy if you catch my drift,
As we used to say while grazing in the grass with
Hugh Masekela & his Naai Mongoe-Swazi red,
Surfrikan homeboys & band mates, & that
ANC Kwa-Guqa Township posse,
Shadowing him since Sharpeville.
That’s right, Babaloo,
Go with the flow.
Don’t fight it. You’ve been spared the unintended
Consequences of government shenanigans &
Free market meltdowns.
Consider this a CEASE & DESIST NOTICE:
Cease swimming upstream Mr. Phelps.
Desist fighting tide & current, Michael.
A mariner’s distinction, yet serviceable &
Purposed for this narrative.
“And away we go,” croons a Gleason levitation;
Aloft we go into the wild blue yonder.
The Cloud: an exalted playground.
You are atop the slide,
Kindergarten lord of all you survey,
Sultan, Chinese Emperor & Venetian Doge,
A 90-caliber Duke of Earl,
You are euphoric, Mike.

The descent into the humanoid condition
(See Paddy Chayefsky’s Howard Beale),
Is slick and precipitous.
It begins when you first finger ****
A pocket calculator or touchtone phone,
Or use a Xerox machine.
From there it’s a quick slide down
The technology ****-shoot: video games,
Spreadsheets & word processors,
Emails, texts & tweets,
Laser projection keyboards,
Wi-Fi amplifiers,
GPS navigators, &
Apps for No-Strings *** . . .
By “****-shoot” I editorialize, of course,
In a state of future shock,
Resenting planned obsolescence,
Contemptuous of shrewd **** kids,
Wharton School sharpies,
Scoping out price curves & flowcharts,
Colluding at industry trade shows,
Powwows & confabs,
Releasing newer, more versatile
Models & spinoffs, according to a
Scheme planned three years in advance.

I salt the inevitable wounds of technology,
Taking my fight to the streets, realizing too late
My sole means of alerting the flash mob
Is by so-called smart phone,
*******!
Even the revolution has gone digital.
Poor Gil Scott Heron, dead last year at 62,
Poor Scott Heron, channeled into the
Harlem Renaissance by that loyal Chicago Defender,
Subscriber & reader, to wit: his Grandma,
A “Rainbow Conspiracy” co-conspirator,
Cooking ham hocks & collard greens for that
Mythical coalition of Young Lords,
Black Panthers & SDS.
Heron’s prognostication was wrong:
“The Revolution Will (In Fact) Be Televised!”
We’ve witnessed quite a bit of it,
Lately, prime time lately,
Live by satellite from once exotic places,
Places like Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Syria & Ferguson, MO.
I say “once exotic” because it’s hard to be
Visually intoxicated by images of screaming brown men
Sporting New York Yankee ball caps,
“Vote for Pedro” T-shirts and
$200.00 Air Jordan footwear.
Admittedly, the production values of
Revolutionary journalism have improved,
Action reported Hollywood-style,
Narrative arcs, scripted episodes,
Drive-by Potemkin villages & battle scenes,
30 or 60 or 90 day shooting schedules.
Spontaneous proletarian uprisings as Reality TV,
Riveting dramas,
High Nielsen ratings & $500K
Per minute corporate sponsors.
Let’s view the new fall line-up:
(1) “Mustafa Behaving Badly!”
(2) “Tunisian Tear Gas Talent!”
(3) “Gaddafi Gets Sodomized!”

O the One brighter than the brightest star!
O the One who talked to the moon above!
O the One whose presence bloomed all the flowers!
O the Beaut One!
O the Belovently Beloved One!
O, Mustafa!
You are the source of sparkle for our illuminating universe.
Your luminosity left the shimmering sea overjoyed.
Your benignity softened the hearts of hard-hearted.
Your nobility had left me breathless.
For how can I describe the indescribable?

In the streets of Mecca
and Medina I pray I get lost.
Searching my way whole
day in heat I will exhaust.

Who knows after being
much tossed and shoved.
I may find the stepped paths
of my Mustafa beloved.

I'll garland and decorate those
paths with flowers nice;
As those will be paths of
success leading to paradise.__

Welcome to America
Where they call it the home of the brave
While millions of Americans are working as slaves
Barely passing the minimum wage
As the government gives out food stamps to put out the rage
They check out our mailbox
They listen to our phone calls
They'd do anything to throw us
Back where we came from
Like a pack of animals
Like we're fresh out the zoo
While millions of citizens walk around
Without a fucken clue
About what the government is able to do

Welcome to America
Where they call themselves the land of the free
While 47 million people struggle with poverty
They got more food banks than schools
More negative media on the news
Names like Jamal, Raheem, Abdul
Can't get through an airport in peace
"Zainab Mustafa, Come with us please"
They look at my fam and think they got us all down
Like all immigrants are the same
Like we're all fucken clowns
Got the cops pulling me over for no **** reason
***** looks from left and right
As if I committed treason

They treat us like ebola
Like we're a fucken disease
Anything to get us to leave
No matter what we do,
It will never appease

As if Columbus was the first to walk this land
Not the people with painted faces and feathered bands
Have y'all forgotten the first people here were brown
not white?
Talking about freedom of speech
Like they own the bill of rights
The irony of the first amendment
Freedom of religion
Yet they've still condemned it
To practice anything other than their own
Expecting church to be attended
Expecting us to forget what we've known
"You're in America now! The past doesn't matter!"
I'm not here to fit in
Or kiss someone's *** to flatter

Welcome to America
Once known as Freedonia
Where the cities never sleep
Diagnosed with insomnia
As homeless shelters are packed
And crackheads fill the streets
As government officials lay on Egyptian cotton sheets

Welcome to America
Where there is no war
Where we watch your every move
And predict what's in store
Anything we can do to reassure
A more secure nation
Even if it means cleaning up these immigrant abominations
So have a wonderful stay
In our lovely USA