The Ominous Promise of Luxury


What do I see in the land of the free and the home of the brave?


Fat minds grow restless, fed stories of the hardship and challenge of older days.

Pride blooms like a plague in the hearts of the prosperous.

"Who can save a country in peace?" they ask.

"What heroes or heroines are needed

to drug our society with political justice and sugar coated lies?"


In our attempt at bravery peace becomes the plague.

We balk at our plenty and spit on less.

Dissatisfaction is the milk in our bottles.

Never enough; always too much.


We begin to lie to ourselves.

Warp our own reality to satiate our need.

Plums don't hang sweet on our trees, only sour.

Gold necklaces are choke chains and ivory is hatred.


Raised plump on stories of strife, how can we be our idols?

Repeat the past. Become those that came before us.

Only then will we have demons to slay.


Snakes lie on every corner made large by the multitude of mice.

Martyrs are only marytrs if they die for a cause. Without one it's just suicide.


This poem is about: 
My community
My country


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