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Open Poetry #47
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Waiting For America
| Open Poetry #47 |
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Waiting For America |
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soul drifter Senior Member
since 2004-09-08
Posts 711Colorado |
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 |
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| © Copyright 2011 Zach Hilgefort - All Rights Reserved | |||
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BluesSerenade Member Patricius
since 2001-10-23
Posts 10549By the Seaside |
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. |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
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 ~*~ |
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soul drifter Senior Member
since 2004-09-08
Posts 711Colorado |
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. |
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BluesSerenade Member Patricius
since 2001-10-23
Posts 10549By the Seaside |
Oh boy, so what is a personal attack....exactly? Seems it's rather gray!! |
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soul drifter Senior Member
since 2004-09-08
Posts 711Colorado |
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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