A Poet’s History of the United States

No one needs my shit right now
but I’m the squeakiest wheel

so listen up: A bastard tribe of tonic salesman 

take office. The people are not relieved

but they’re lazy. So their children toe the line. 
Food. Fossil. Pantaloons. Who to fuck and when.

Forced to fight fine-tuned dogs 

for mites. Sniffing the Queen’s feet 

w/o lust. Just hunger. A pit so deep

the devil can’t climb. 
Our anthems carry

their own indictment. 

Laggard and racist

we coin our own rules.

No one cares the Earth is dying. 

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