United we are U.S.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is the way i see modern America in a poetry format as well as possibly a short story.

Submitted: January 04, 2008

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Submitted: January 04, 2008

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United We Are U.S.

Children are with us now,
From every country loving each other without the evaluation of anything,
More then the inlying breath .
For all spirits are indiscernible by the eyes,
So let us supervise nothing,
And grasp love with every breath our lungs can muster.

The children today are the present of tomorrow.
Christmas comes and outshines the true meaning,
Of God nearly translucent,
As we,
Meaning all of us,
Allow for a substitute teacher,
 thus named,
 |Stimulating our own economy.
Why not be wise men?
Giving three gifts to our brethren,
And praise to God,
Giving gifts of charity for Jesus,
 So that the unfortunate may smile,
 For maybe the first time in an eternity.

Kids of misfortune are members of us.
Parents trying so hard to just connect ends,
Nothing meats,
On the table vegetation,
 Eating your dough,
 As well as white snow,
Clouding your vision.

Johnny is twelve,
He lives in a small little house.
His parents never hit him,
Working so hard they’re never with him.
He embarks in a world of drugs,
Which initially makes his life prime.
He then comes to the realization that the topnotch life he was living,
Was just a misconceived illusion,
A delusion,
Self inflicted,
To drift into,
Tranquility.

His mother still snorted at the dinner table,
And his father toked up into a muse.
Now Johnny is in his moms stash,
And smoking all of his dads grass.,
Terminal is what his sister becomes,
 Cancer in her brain,
Deficient in festivity as she passes on at the tender age of just thirteen.
And still he believes God is with him.
What did we do to make his life better?
What did we do to soothe his pain?
Us,
 We weren’t present.

Now at the age of seventeen,
He’s still in school.
His performance,
As optimal as could be,
Considering he grew up here with us in poverty.
But did we lend a hand?
Besides an extra can at Christmas time.
Who are we to say we’re pleasant?
When this little boy is growing up like a medieval peasant.

What’s not fair here to us?
Is what unseeing eyes of the world presume,
That we’re well,
And all swell,
All healthy,
And mostly all wealthy.
The world is mistaken,
Most of us are satisfactory with a C,
Report cards lacking A’s or B’s.

The destitute people among us,
 Contend race with the purpose and proficiency to overcome constraints of poverty,
And a hopeless medication of ones vanity,
In attempts to heal the wounds opened by parents,
Slicing away at there child’s psyche.
As they are encumbered in there own addictions.
Expectant you should be by now,
That Johnny has become a replication,
Of totality.
He reflected upon himself,
He was an abomination,
Who’s unbiased rejection,
Was a reflection of,
His Predecessors.

Let us join together,
 And stop poverty among us.
Let us be brethren,
 All from the same nation.
Let us unite and battle,
 Everything that deters peace,
Among,
U.S. 

 

 


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