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
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem