America is an angry drunk stumbling through
the saloon, waving a shotgun
singing I shot
the sheriff and I’m going to shoot the deputy
I watch ID TV. These stories never end well.
Whether or not the crime is solved somebody
always dies
Oh America
how do we change you
back?
Do we get on our knees, pray the princess
will kiss the frog?
Or were we the ones
under a spell to ever think you a prince?
4 thoughts on "Twitter"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Mike – This might be my favorite of yours so far! End questions will haunt me throughout the day!
That first verse, boom, nailed it. love the poem. Thanks.
The first lines–give us such a description and then you follow with such good questions. Such good work.
Wow! The question posed here is what I have been asking myself for awhile now! It’s exactly what the protests are about – the illusion of America! Excellent poem!