#149 - the battle hymn

30.5.20

149

the battle hymn

America’s burning again

United Sates thereof, I mean

it lightens the heart to have illusions flame up like this

to see what we must see

(Canada’s a cot case, the South is only just catching alight)

the US of A is burning again

‘fine ideals’ or some will say

they set themselves on fire  

no one else would do it

they had to, you did

(don’t know whether to address you or third person drift

… mix match…

frequently I imagine I’m you

wake up in a cold sweat… brackets still open

you’ll get this with melting pot

cup runneth over with flame

always something messianic there going down

it’s always someone else’s America

and here we are again

enough gas and coal to go on forever

but now, in the streets… this fire!

think of it merely as lighting the way

intestinal rumble, a hunger for it

or must have been the masses

but no, none of that, they have none…

the citizens!  look how equal they all are

everyone gets a say

America bays for its own blood

(drunk all the rest)

queue up

you could choke on it

have you seen how the numbers go up?

teeter brink of why-call-it-curve?

you get dizzy

cook crack

come off a high

prohibition’s been such a hit!

would you like a new war with that as a side?

won’t matter which

main thing’s to be there – boots on the ground

pride cometh before the reap-what-you-sow

there’s no more proverbial place on the planet

it’s everything cinema, house is on fire

I wonder if anyone lived here before?

it’s not as if this is a first warning

three strikes?

something mutually assured?

duck cover

have to be first person shooter

that’s me behind trigger in selfie

teeth and the rest so dazzlingly white

live stream it

can’t blame me – I didn’t vote

you can’t make me

streets are on fire

it’s an angry age

blame the Asia – after all these years rising

still want my car

don’t they know who’s

boss tribe in charge?

I do and I’d like a ranch next door

let me be puppy

love to chew on a chain

or set me on some infidel

I’ll bring home the bone

America’s dancing on its own grave

big belly laugh

bingeing again

nobody does this stuff nearly as well

hey, try out this chair – it’s electric!

America! it was you made the Depression great!

self-belief!

and comes with wretched refuse

let them all eat cotton candy

can’t take a trick

the starving all wish up on the ladder

tread on their fingers, and if they fall

it’s televised – you can watch it all go to woe

and now the drowning have climbed on board

each zombie hauls at least the one ghost

e pluribus unum – we took the lot

you did the gunship thing once to prise Japan

so many things come back to haunt

… but not if you don’t take your irony pills

tragedy? or make mine farce?

I love it most when they build a great wall

neighbours say ‘there goes America’

sad complacent nod

they’re used to this sort of thing

remember Ike and the Mausoleum?

think Ray-Gun, Bushes two –

so many practice runs

have to say I do blame Noah Webster

America, you’ve elected Grim Reaper again

except not really – skip college, count the votes

in the catatombs with President Virus

never gets up from the couch except golf

was it childhood?  something since?

let me get the latest firearm

(God, give me this right)

still only so many feet to shoot

well, why not make them dance?

make it another big budget western

high noon saloon swagger

now they’re burying burying burying

and this time it’s your own again

must have a talent for it

get in their way and you go in the ground

it’s breathless there with progress

and you can hear the rust

they’ve put Cretan liar in charge of the truth

things could go either way

Liberty wears Justice’s blindfold

better not look at all

you’re more incarcerated than ever

the facts of the matter are locked up as well

with Julian and Chelsea

and old Joe Hill

my, what long long arms you have

better to be great powerful friend

and shall we say set free?

oh say can you see!

stand on a man’s neck till he’s dead

that’ll show who doesn’t matter

how’s your Mall of America now?

I call that kind of thing kindling

we’re expecting a shake in California

New York’s come down with it’s-not-the-flu

I was in the woods with Thoreau

once FDR and turn on a dime

fire some rockets into space

no one will feel a thing

I, too, have lived in that box

                with the colours

pizza delivered, jazz on demand

I understand the genius   

took the pill to uncrazy a little

been sorry for myself ever since

and sorrier again

let it not be as long as Rome was

you’re like every empire ever

none of the rest of us are

America, when will you ever be worthy

of this decline and fall ?