The broken heart of a nervous nation
skips and misses and beats itself black.
Coronary blockages clog the flow of creativity -
back pressure clamps head tightening vice.
Fear pounds white fists
into faces of stunted children
whose stunned hearts race
to play hide and seek from death.
Self-appointed mercenaries pounce
from behind camouflage cover of dingy gray suits,
blood-red power neck nooses,
and scraggly fake bushes to ambush life,
to grab and snare and rip the flesh
from sacred ideals
for which no one from their families died.
Dark swirling worlds reflected in confused black eyes
of kids with bulging hungry stomachs
and dangling half appendages
leftover from landmines and radioactive playtoys
made in the US of A by your woolly-eyed neighbor.
There mommy - I did it!
I took over the world
and made it safe for a dead democracy.
Are you proud of me now?
