Cabin Fever

I Was Created By The Government

12/01/02

Tiny beads flash on blinking screens.
Blips blip and force thoughts and ideas
from those screens
down a gutter,
dripping into a bucket just above my nose.
When it's full it tips
and only then do I speak.
This is my 21st century mind.
My brain is lined with computers
built with the latest technology
meant to overtake the world
and make everyone else appear to be just like me-
the anti-anyone.
It's a complex inner mechanical system that produces me;
one I'm not allowed to speak much of
(hence the slight twitch
every time I have a thought about telling my secrets
to a bare and unexposed world).
The government created me as a weapon of self-destruction
in hopes of scaring the outside world
away from The United States
and allowing us to enjoy our commercial freedoms
like Brittney Spears and Pepsi and Coke
and Friends and Monday Night Football and internet porn.
Wars protect that type of nation,
first and foremost.
When money is your root, it's the first to warrant a shield.
Not the farmers, firemen, men and women of the law,
babies, mothers, fathers, etc.
I've been sent to distract opposing governments
by selling myself to them like ours sells crack in ghettos.
My mission is to get them to believe MTV doesn't exist
and we're all lazy grass smokers
and there's no need to worry about what Americans think
or what they're doing in their private country club.
I'm neither Republican- nor Democrat-endorsed
but I'm still paid for by taxpayers
in their hopeful eyes of saving the world.
I've got Saddam and Osama on speed-dial,
but George and Dick are too "important" or "busy"
to give me their numbers. So much for progress.
It's nice to see their level of devotion to their "project."
I still get Christmas cards from Noriega and Khaddafi,
yet the IRS still taxes me year in, year out.
The world wants the U.S. hated for all of its many evils.
Instead of correcting and reaching out,
we choose to flaunt them directly, face-first
in the general public's eyes.
How am I supposed to feel sorry?