Modern Americana

This is the land of freedom of choice:
Coke or Pepsi,
light beer or dark,
less filling, tastes great,
Republican or Democrat,
horse manure, cow manure,
different crap,
same smell.

America is now a pie
divided
into eight slices,
but, there are twelve at the table,
and three of them want seconds.

It’s all a game.
George and Martha never had a son.
Truth and illusion;
it doesn’t make a difference,
we still sit in the waiting room
expecting delivery.

Money is the new Messiah,
greed is the national creed,
“In G-O-D (gold or dollars) we trust,”
but, credit cards accepted.

The government of the people
has been bought and sold.
It’s strictly business,
nothing personal.

The heart of America
stopped beating,
the blood clotted,
no longer red,
now medi-ochre,
and pumped
by the pacemaker
of public opinion.

And still there are those that believe
that the only real American patriots
are true blue and white
or least act white,
and all the stars
are in Hollywood.