Treasure Island

Michael Shutt

(Kokomo)

Independence Day,2014


The Fireworks
are going off.

The unwashed masses
yearning to
breathe free
are celebrating
their Liberty.

With Oscar Mayer-
and Pabst Blue Ribbon.

You can't get
much more
Red White Blue
than that.

Across the Land,

unsightly,

unwashed un white hands
dare to believe
the promise written

Ten Score
and plus
in Philadelphia Summer.

Fireworks.

Pageants.
Pomp.
Parade.

Past Victories
gone long ago.

Past Concord.

And past Lexington.

Past Valley Forge.

And Ardennes Forest.

Past the Battle
of the Bulge.

Past Gettysburg.

Past Vietnam.

Past the 49th Parallel.

Afghanistan,

Iraq's foul hell.

The Trumpets sound
with clarion voice.

And yet.

With sparklers,

Strident voice,

Americans deny.

Those unwashed masses
simply yearning to
breathe free.

And turn their backs
upon the blood which
came before.

Land of the Free...

Damn.

What's the score?

In the end,
I think we lost
the War.

July 4,2014

Submitted: Friday, July 04, 2014

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

The hatred I see towards new Americans.

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