America: the Rave

America
Of the store-bought
pizza dinners
Land of the flies
who scrape the paint
off of barnyard doors
with fingernails of lace
America
Camel cigarette
butts lining the crevices,
reminding us to
take pride in our
death
Land of the trees,
the oceans, and the
snow; covering us like
a whale song sung from
the bleachers of Wrigley field
in ’89
America
Scarface gangsterish
slang aimed at our throats
while revolutionaries paint
their stories on box trains
destined for the great beyond
Land of the stolen coffee bean
with all of its richness fueling
our neurotic skull contents in
the bleak December rains
America
Social injustice in the form
of Television, telling us a tale
as old as time; oppression
as an old, raggedy flag drenched
in the blood of sacrificial lambs
who never got to see the pasture
Land of the bombs, the guns,
and the assault rifle speeches
of sputtering, malignant hatred
America
Chain gang alamode
served with a slice
of adversity in the morning
Land of the Cinematic
bloodbath and violent
pornography with Twilight zone
on repeat
America
Crooked-nosed piety seekers
in rags on the streets who sleep
right outside the doors of the disillusioned youth
who partake in Molly until their ears
scream and their voices listen
Land of the freezing
Home of the Rave.

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