America Is For Sale


I cannot bear the sound of these trees;

My misery becomes my shallow beautifulness

Let us retreat to our hourly wages!

Behold the jobs that take our souls

Such worldly knowledge has come to a close

For the power of our wages speaks to none

Let us work for a tree and get more leaves

Desperate is the wise man who knows all

With flags that worship every biding country

I have no pearls to claim my innocence

For what is a pearl without luster?

For I am in desperate retreat...I love you regardless

In truth and weariness, she is the light

Sweet Mama America!

Wisdom carries deeply

A perfect wound

Heaven help me find the way of peace

I shall take my throne

And throw it in the sea

So the sea can create waves of mercy

For America is not every country,

For America is for sale

We validate ourselves with American money

And we listen to the voices of the weak

We are soldiers marching to war

Because war is not yet defeated

And who am I to deny my wages

When my wages deny me?

I swallow these trees

And I hear them sing

And the sound is so peaceful like the thorn;

Poor and unfortunate things happen to the ungrateful soul

Winter's breath becomes livid,

And Cupid seems so cold

Oh the wanderlust of it all seems so unfair

The bitter biscuits in the oven

The stale breeze in the wind

And Cupid rises to fame in a bout of misery. 

  • Author: Soul Baby (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 6th, 2024 00:11
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 3
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.