I'm a United States citizen,
Fifth generation,
And I might be sent back to Mexico.
  Because in the here of the now
  The people stand at the crest
  Of the paper moon,
  Its almost eclipsed
  Because Obama was
  Never more than words.
So we look for anything,
We are thirsting for something,
And the Trump card falls
Into place, he's full of ****,
But he's full of **** in
Full public.
See we know the establiment
Needs to be dis- established
Because they sing like mockingbirds
To another mockingbird,
And Hillary the woman
Is still a politician:
    Oh the patriot,
    ****** fool.
    He still believes
    In America!
    And why cry the democracy?
    Why poetise the political?
And the patriot said-
          Because I am what I am,
          For love of country,
          Freedom of my freedom,
          I am the people,
          We are the voice,
          And America once had a dream.

And I answered:
To see and touch all that I forgot,
To remember the delta where
Immense waters rushed to
My memory's melodic forms.
     To remember that ***** that
     Broke my heart,
     How I loved her,
     Look at all the poems
     I wrote for her!
To feel the livid wounds
Of everyone fester about
Like domesticated bipeds,
Watch them grow entangled
Beneath a shivering sun.
        To read the crazy beautiful
        Of other people's thoughts
        And get in their heads without
        Psychological babblings
        And manipulation.
To watch the shadowless sun
Create a phantom city
In the concrete swarms,
To stretch every sense
Into the living moment.
      To catch myself from splitting,
      Or perhaps to split from myself
      And call me crazy,
      Laugh it off and cry
      When I read it again.
To embody what I miss
With these fucken cell phones
And internet opinions
With elongated voices
Lonely, their kind of
Misery loves company after all.

      Why the poem?
      Ask yourself,
      What else is there??