Ode To America Poem by Curtis Johnson

Ode To America

My fellow countrymen, the President, Politicians, and pulpiteers Though not in a cave like Rip Van Winkle, I must have fallen asleep in indifference and over-business. It was more than Van Winkle's 20 years, because prior to my sleep, I knew an America that dreamed of chickens in every pot;
of carports, garages, and picket fences; of a good education and catching the Jones.
It appears I am awaking not from, but to, a nightmare; and to what am I opening my eyes to see? Me thinks it's not 'my country tis of thee'. Not a chicken in the pot or fryer in the skillet. But I see leaders in the kettle with a frog. The fire is turned down low and heating slowly. Like the frog, they are relaxed and comfortable. Oh Lord, if they only knew the manner of the frog's demise.
I see many changes and multiple evils have been removed. Reparations, and revolutions have all aided in the remedy. Relief has been appropriated for the poor; and recovery dispatched to needy ones at home and abroad; and to foes and enemies alike.
Reforms and revivals have been periodically dispatched and from above.
I see blessings and prosperity beyond comparison; melting pots of dreamers
and immigrants still dine at our tables. That's part of the American beauty.
Oh America, we are busy face booking and twitting; But we must realize that we are also bleeding. I weep for what might lie ahead for us. I grieve for what we are becoming. I fear for us, though not of guns and nukes from afar; But for rivalries in the white house and the halls of congress And I fear for our pulpiteers who also relax in the kettle with the frog.
07312017cjFB Part fiction

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