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Open Poetry #47
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soul drifter
Senior Member
since 2004-09-08
Posts 711
Colorado

0 posted 2011-10-21 11:50 AM


Sorry in advance for the length of this, but I was feeling pretty epic, I suppose.
-----------

            Waiting For America

Oh America, I am drying my wings
            on your rocks and shoals,
            searching for my scattered hopes.
Oh America, there is a spanner in the works
            of your fondest dreams
            turning to thermonuclear nightmares.
Oh America, your freedom is an unfinished
            skyscraper,looming high over this
            landscape,steel beams and rivets
            swirling in the melting pot
            of a New York dawn.
            John Coltrane has bled for you,
            Jack Kerouac brushing his inky
            fingertips down the length of your
            immaculate body.
            You are the girl in the crowd that
            Frank Sinatra is crooning to;
            you are the weather-worn cypress tree
            that soldiers of World War II and Korea
            died for; that Woody Guthrie played his
            songs for; that Brian Wilson composed
            his dream symphonies for.
Oh America, we are your tired, your poor, huddled
            masses, fingers desperately clenched
            on the hem of Liberty's rusting gown.
            We, the poets, novelists. painters,
            troubadours, film makers, the very
            sunflower seeds in your garden,
            you are sewing, stitching our lives,
            our basic human rights into your
            blood-soaked flag.
            Oh, it is too beautiful for me to comprehend.

Oh America, the melody did fall like a paisley veil
            over San Francisco, over Berkley and
            Woodstock, and got dragged through the
            dirt and blood at Altamont,
            got peppered with shrapnel at Kent State
            and in the murderous lust up on Cielo
            Drive, spilled it's coda over the
            echoing Hollywood Hills.
Oh America, I saw you, please don't lie, you  
            painted the invisible line and pushed
            the color over.
            America you could have stopped the fire
            hoses, the cities burning, the war-weary
            1968 from ever, ever happening.
            America you were shadowing the shadows
            there, in Memphis, April the 4th,
            too careless were you to stop the
            lion's roar, the jet plane soared,
            the wall of impenetrable napalm flames.
Oh America, a column of burning sky, as violent as
            anything, took you up, up, up,
            and we all stood mesmerized by
            ghostly images, across the vastness,
            figures moving strangely in the lunar
            monochrome vista.

Oh America, haven't you noticed, I've been bleeding
            ever since these wars began.
            Are you sure this is the way to go?
            The battered path in this jungleland
            forks three ways, each darker than the
            last. But just mind your compass, grip
            your rifle and try to remember
            Mythic America, Abraham Lincoln
            spreading his eagle wingspan
            over this day of days.
and Oh, America, you promised things would change
            after Kennedy was murdered and
            Cronkite lowered his black horn rims
            and held back a tear.

            I am still waiting for you, America,
            I will always be waiting on this
            Plymouth rock, hauling my hopes
            over these precious shoals.
            Yes, waiting for the day when
            your freedom fire will spark
            and let every soul bask in
            it's warming embrace
            forever.



"The good thing about science is that it's true whether or not you believe in it." —Neil deGrasse Tyson

© Copyright 2011 Zach Hilgefort - All Rights Reserved
BluesSerenade
Member Patricius
since 2001-10-23
Posts 10549
By the Seaside
1 posted 2011-10-21 12:31 PM


You've touched on some events that have changed our lives.  

Our history is not always pretty, then again we are blessed to call America our home.

Always enjoy reading your thoughts and a peek into how your mind works.

JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana
2 posted 2011-10-21 12:57 PM


I assume this will be the "Occupiers" anthem, because of course, America is such a mean place, there are no heroes, no stories of personal accomplishments, no rags to riches stories, and that is why everybody wants to come here, and has wanted to come here for generations, it is because we are so very, very bad and its people are one big mass of poor, trod upon people, that is why everybody wants to come here. We are a third world country and spit on everybody's rights, that is why everyone wants to come here. So rave on soldier of the poor and dispirited, rave on.

~* The saddest words of tongue or pen are the words It might have been.--John Greenleaf Whittier ~*~

soul drifter
Senior Member
since 2004-09-08
Posts 711
Colorado
3 posted 2011-10-21 01:29 PM


Whoa, slow down, Jerry Pat. I have no hatred for America at all. This poem is simply a jumble of words about America's ongoing journey to the time when we will live up to all our beautiful dreams, to a time when freedom knows no bounds. America has some ugly scars that are hard to dismiss. I love America as an idea, but sometimes in reality things get fuzzy. This country has come a long way in the last 50 years, but there is still so much more to go. That's all this is about. I feel this piece is sorta kinda patriotic, in it's own way.
BluesSerenade
Member Patricius
since 2001-10-23
Posts 10549
By the Seaside
4 posted 2011-10-21 03:00 PM


Oh boy, so what is a personal attack....exactly?
Seems it's rather gray!!

soul drifter
Senior Member
since 2004-09-08
Posts 711
Colorado
5 posted 2011-10-23 02:45 PM


It's grey, but it's also colorful, (I hope) as is life.
Man, I didn't know people would take this poem so seriously, but then I should've remembered that you gotta be careful when you talk about America sometimes.
Really, all this is, is a little poem about the shades of grey in America's history that sadly, still haven't completely left us, though thankfully we made a TON of progress in the last several decades if not centuries. The grey is bigotry, murder and ignorance and I think we all look forward to the day when American freedom doesn't overlook ANYONE, regardless of color, religion or sexual orientation.

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