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Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #1405147
My attempt at a free-style poem.
In a culture full of vultures,
they feed off what one lacks;
valuing lying, denying,
and stabbing in the back.
Turn and look the other way
as our ghettos run astray -
the blacks are selling crack
just to feed their kids today.
The addiction concedes conviction,
breeds over-crowded jails;
but don’t treat ‘em,
instead just beat ‘em,
no matter that it fails.

Watch on TV as they cry
in the wake of genocide;
authority decides
there is nothing to provide.
For they’re too engrossed in war
to send help to your shore;
all troops are set aside
for the wealth that they have eyed.
They simply boast about their pride,
pushing other worlds aside;
so they can coast and glide
and abandon you to die.

Withering away from chronic disease,
she uses chronic
so she can feel at ease.
It’s ironic, one can agree,
that despite her families’ crying pleas
to let their loved one die in peace,
our government, guardian of the free,
overrides her doctor’s expertise,
arresting her for a felony.
If she’s deathly ill,
she can pop some pills;
just drop these and pay
the prescription bill.

America, home of the free,
embracing splendid democracy -
don’t glance too hard or you will see
a nation of hypocrisy,
in which people dictate authority -
so long as they’re the majority.








© Copyright 2008 Jack Bradley (wywh2106 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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