A precursor to todays world but a result of yesterday. I wrote this in 2010 and it IS relevant. Of Thee I sing (From my book Black Marks On White Paper)… The beast that sleeps on concrete in the middle of rush hour traffic Communities of commuters can’t drive over it or around it. The size is massive The proverbal Mastiff An old dog, No new tricks. Inspires awe, and inflicts abuse upon its enthusiasts. America the beauteous. The make-up masking all of us The phony lashes, mascara, blush Batting eyes, disguise the rough. The ugly mind, the media, center for deceiving us A Global free world In God we trust. Though destiny She manifests. Holding you at Her breasts, Feeding you Her nutrients, until you bite for sustenance. Then hurls you back across your fence, denying you full entrance, migrant full, no immigrants unless you are subservient. America the merchant ship. Set a sail by capitalistic winds Rips through tides Indigenous to all who lived before its gifts. The present grim, no turning back. America your soul is black. -Michelle LOVE the poet Nelson ©2010 lovethepoet
Posted on: Wed, 10 Dec 2014 18:44:10 +0000
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