America Poem by Sam Boehms

America. You used to sell sermons and now you sell soap and still no one is clean.
Your grime used to be black. It used to be thick and noisome. And now
It smells like roses and appears clear and carries with it the cancer.

America! Your heroes sit on the sidewalks and talk to pigeons while your sons play
poker on wall street with them chinamen. For shame!
Those commies that used to give you such a fright now sit in your
oval rooms. But what’s in a name anyways?

America. You sold your ideals, your morals, your Self, and so they rebelled.
And then you sold that too.

America. What would you do if those redcoats had tanks?
Where would your Osama Bin Washington be now?
You toot your horn like the fire truck racing down the road to
extinguish the flame but when you get there you discover your
pumps have run dry and the firemen don’t want to
play your games anymore.

America. Where do the free men run now? Where, oh where,
can a man be a man? You’ve mass-produced my steak
and saran wrapped my coffee.
Your banks want a loan and your people need food.
Which one did you choose?

America. Jesus gave you greed, Allah got you mad and
Buddha turned you lazy.
Your flowers smell like perfume and
your vistas remind me of the brochure.
Your trains now fly and your landscape
is just a hindrance on the journey.
Do away with your public transportation.
I am too afraid of my fellow man.

America. You used to be harsh, unjust and innocent.
Now you’re just apologetic and cruel.

America. You make me want to be an american
but after all these years I don’t think there’s
anyone left that remembers how.