"murica" poems
"Murica" "Murica" "Murica"
chants of patriotism ethnocentrism
nationalist sentiments lacquered in blue red white
spangled with stars and candy striped
"enemies both foreign and domestic"
the roar of jet engines accompanied by
crackling sparklers
summer sunlight
glamorous fireworks
red meat burning over charcoal because
the chef is being kissed
"life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness"
the roar of jet engines accompanied by
dying children
systematized ****
internment camps
the division along the 38th parallel because
the evil's communism not McCarthyism no never
"my government has a firm policy not to capitulate"
not to terrorists
not to the UN
not to common sense
not to popular opinion
not to love in all it's forms
but
to corruption
to the oil lobby
to racism
to ***
to the Almighty
dollar
"we have reason to believe Iraq has weapons of mass destruction."
No.
No, you don't.
Lying ********
You *******
You ruined everything.
*****
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 11:57 AM UTC
Uncle Sam sometimes whispers a little bit too close.
I’ve felt so many scraps scraping against my cheek-
those numerous numberless things he carries in his
beard by ‘accident’. So many things get stuck there
and I feel them all, whenever he dares, and he dares
often, to whisper alittlebittooclose. One time the grey
beard leaned in and touched me in my sleep and
planted in me strange dreams of faraway gothic towers
passing off as libraries: Harvard dreams, Princeton
dreams, Yale dreams: I haven’t quite slept since. The
shaggy scraps stuck to the forest of strands on his face
would never let me. They scratch away at me often
even in the brightness of day, and claw jaggedly in the
darkness of night. Little heart of mine has lost its own
beat. It beats to the beat of a beat on a beat from a beat
with a beat by a beat which beats those beats and beats
beats that beat not of my beat. Little heart of mine, when
did you lose your own pulse? Why won’t you tell your family
that Uncle Sam’s whispers are more than whispers? Why
won’t you tell your family what Uncle Sam does to you
in the brightness of day when everyone is smiling as Uncle
Sam pats your shoulder? Little heart of mine, why doesn’t
your family know what Uncle Sam does in the darkness
of night as he whispers whispers under your whispers and
what he does beneath your skin? Didn’t you know, little heart?
They have laws that say that greybeards shouldn’t be digging
into little boys’ insides, don’t they.
(Uncle Sam has travelled
far and wide, far and wide to tell me lies.
Recall that this is not the first time…)
But little heart you know why. This is not the first time.
It is the natural progression for a Coconut like you:
darkness of night on outside and brightness of day on inside.
Your skin doesn’t matter; you all taste the same.
Cut you off the homeland-tree and cart you all away.
Then, in this way we can say and say the homeland is “Rising”-
Uncle Sam tells the world of his diversity in selection
of little boys to touch with strange dreams.
And I like the feel of the scraps in his beard. Maybe
I can become one of them. One with them.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
blue diamond eyes
hand reaching back at me
out in the feels-tingle-fields
country music isn't like country
these days
murica isn't quite the same as she was either
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 7:11 PM UTC
"Indian shizzle", he said.
**** shizzle", she replied.
"Does it make a difference?", he asked her.
Then he stopped to think,
"Are we really all the same?"
"Murica", said a small voice in his head.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 7:31 AM UTC
They say,
"America loves a winner."
I ask,
"Why doesn't America like Serena?"
They say,
"America loves an underdog?"
I ask,
"Why doesn't America like Serena?"
They say,
"America loves a good fight and fighter."
I say,
"I already know why but would you,
America,
ever admit
Just once.
You know what,
Nevermind."
© Christopher F. Brown 2015
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
Living where my mother be
inside america the land of infinite discovery
Utterly
shaken by words the prez is uttering
Bludgeoning the labeled "foreigners" for their said struggling..
i see your ways
Its usually quit disgusting
Grab em by the twuat you will get got and thats for sure
unpure
I hope that soon we get see some gore
i prey that you decay your toupee through the air will soar
Unsure ;
are yall the people which i should be blaming
You asked for this destruction now you ******** and complaining
god ;
How many claim to see through the facade
yet sit and watch their brothers getting buttered by the odds..
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 6:27 PM UTC
On the road once again
Haven't lost
Yahweh
Ohm thinking 'bout Indians
and Indios
Columbus and Dublin
Echoes and impermanence
Kanata and 'murica
**** yea
Maybe the Mormons got it right
An idea split in two
Like two brothers
Or twin souls
But always a third
Apes lost their tails but not their balance
Causality, a trinity
Of sorts
That's for you to sort out
Cause:
"Spectres...." ~ ~~ ~~~ Whitman
Coyote sleeps tonight
Rest well my friend
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
MURICA, land of the free!
Y’all can’t tell me
Give up muh guns!
United we of the
NRA stand, the sacrifice?
School kids’ blood on our hands.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 5:42 PM UTC