How does it feel?
Let’s keep it real.
How does it feel?
To sell so short the American Dream?
To sell for a song your family and friends?
To sell your soul, your heart, your mind?
Pretend no monsters around the bends;
Pretend that cruelty actually is kind.
Pretend putrid muck is a clear flowing stream.
All so you can kiss the rings
Of swine who would be kings
Who promised a world
Enshrined in shiny pearls
In golden leaf and diamond swirls
Who delivering instead
A worm in your head
A reign of radical racist hate
A frosted fog of friendless state.
A razzle of maniacal dazzle
A dazzle of frankly farcial razzle.
Oh, say, can you still see
With no light at the dawn
When the Law is a pawn
That once we had Democracy?
Red ink galore,
Red blood and gore,
Torture and pus:
That’s what becomes of US.
Instead of courage and captains to lead
We’re told obey the maggots; worship cancer
A Dancer Obese, a Necromancer
A boastful beast, a prideful prancer
Turned on by making children bleed.
A warm summer rain
Which washes your brain
Then soon turns to ice
Trashing everything nice.
Pretty, petty falsehoods fill the air
Making it hard for you even to care.
So you join parades
And welcome charades;
Salute the sign of the twisted cross.
Pretend what matters is Glitter and Gloss.
How does it feel?
Let’s keep it real.
How does it feel:
To sell mother, father, sister, brother?
To sell into slave-hood your own hopes and dreams?
To cater to cons and kowtow to killers?
Pretend wrong is right
Pretend dark is light?
To cover your eyes and feign you’ve no sight?
Defile the planet we need to survive?
Destroy the work of thousands who strive
Break all the glass
And act like an ass?
Let melons rot in unpicked fields.
Let felons pick US for human shields.
Let science die upon the vine.
Let’s all burn witches one last time.
Oh, say, can you still see
With no light at the dawn
When the Law is a pawn
That once we knew Democracy?
When drunken rage has broken every mirror
You don’t have to look at what you’ve now become;
No need to admit your decisions were dumb;
No need to reflect; instead, just deflect.
Cover your face and pretend you’re not you.
Smother your feelings and revel in cruel.
How does it feel?
Let’s keep it real.
How does it feel?
To destroy our parks to make wealthy folks grin
To burn down the forests and drink crystal gin?
Rape underage children and blame someone other?
To laugh at the tears of each desolate mother?
A warm summer rain
Destroys your brain
Floods away courage
From the land of the brave
The rain turns to sleet
The sleet turns to ice
And soon a sheet of sordid lice
Covers with slime, the trust of the truth
And duct-tapes all our scream-blistered lips
Sinks every one of our sailing ships;
Airplanes fall from smog-filled skies
Shot down by rockets made of lies.
What was once a land of love and life
Striving toward a fairer, grander prize
Becomes a muddy barren ice-filled waste.
Everyone sprints in a hasty race to taste
The few remaining crud-crusted crumbs
Seeks the momentary thrill that numbs.
Let’s get real.
How does it feel?
How does it feel?
There has always been a part of you that knew:
The lies were lies; the con was con.
There was no prize;
No prize—
Except the short term rush of kill
Except the hit of heroin thrill.
You watch the lovely rockets red glare
As they stream across the pounding sky
How pretty they look as your shark eyes stare
As you crane your neck so far so fair
Like a chick upon the chopping block
Just one of a fear-filled feckless flock
Choking on a lifeless lump of lie
Right before you dissolve and die.
As your severed head plops upon the ground
You sense the booming dooming sound
Of bombast bursting in polluted air
Maybe this is your final dream:
If only you care to care.
If only you dare to dare,
Your country won’t die in rockets’ red glare
Your flag will still be there.
Be there!
It’s twilight’s last gleam.
Help save the dream.
Be there!
Care to care
Dare to dare
In twilight’s last gleam.
D4
Absolute is not Just a Vodka
At Least he’s our Monster
Dick-Taters
Essays on America: The Game
You Bet Your Life
Wednesday
What about the Butter Dish?
The Stopping Rule
Where does your Loyalty Lie?
The Truth Train
Plans for US; some GRUesome
Imagine all the people
Peace
Dance of Billions
Roar, Ocean, Roar
petersironwood 