I pledge alligence to corprate america
And the benefit for 400 for which it stands.
Two social classes under one flag.
Invincible with capatitalism and lies for all.

Or at least that’s what it should say
And actually I think they may be trying to change it to such
Because they’re no longer trying to hide it all.
Twisting their words from
100 years, 10 years, 5 years, last year, yesterday
To which that would their liking, their want, their greed of today.
When the masses are ignorant or just giving up
The greedy take advantage and push them further down.
Teaching us when we are infants that the projects are where we will always be.
Being raised to be little soilders in camoflauge and guns with no safety pins ready to take orders.
And if not in those boots then in uniforms with golden arches on them
Asking questions like;
Would you like fries with that?

In a classroom with 32 or more on the floor with 1 teacher
A teacher who truly believes we cant be taught since they moment that stepped foot in the south bronx.
Who sees us all as
Stereotypical hoes and addicts from the ghetto
Where the drugs and crime were set up by those in power to bring us down.
While we aren’t being taught so tell me America,
what are we to do when the ones that are supposed to leave no child left behind
are only waiting for a check in the mail?

But tell me America,
What happens when the perfect family chains you depicted in the 50’s
Has become the long lost dream of those fatherless and motherless children
Who have grown up to be the adults who are still homeless and begging on the street for 33 years?
When the chains are broken
When a mother and daughter can’t even look each other in the eyes
And a father and son’s only connection is a handshake
And our sister’s sister can only cry at night
And our brother’s cousin is hanging by his own rope.

What has this world come to?
When America the beautiful is now
America home of the
Broken down poor downed in their own tears,
As 400 watch them, like crabs in a barrel.
Laughing
Laughing
As those stuck inside have been unable to notice
That their enemy is
Up there
Up there
No, I don’t mean my God I don’t mean your god,
Not Jesus, not the pope
Don’t look at your mothers and fathers
Don’t look at your sisters and brothers beside you
Look at the media and the rich faces you see,
And point at those who take your money and make you slaves.
Who lower your wages and steal your pension while they’re making millions by the day.

Am I only to be left alone like sweet charming little tommy
Who died without an education because of you?
Or am I supposed to be the 2012 Lolita Leboron,
Rebelling in the capital for the freedom I know you may never had to me, America.
Do expect me to give in and walk these trails of tears that lead to slavery like that in our history books, America.
But when will the poet’s poems be printed in black and white among those pages America?
Those that tell the truth of what you are doing to this country’s people, America.
Or will you rip up the papers I write on And take away my first amendment rights.
Or have you already done so?

But I do not need those pages
For that is why a poet recites.
A poet is a prophet
A prophet is a savior
Savior, savior
Not Christ all mighty
But a 5 foot 1 girl from the heights
Where she sleeps in the shadows of the Manhattan skyscrapers built on lies.