With respect to the state of the peoples
Making up my nation I can only speak for me.
I am a fifty-three year old unemployed
Baby boomer floundering from my last
Ass kicking in America's dog eats dog
Heads up competition for job advancement.
Replaced because I could be, there are times
I wish I had begged my boss for my job
But a mule doesn't beg to be overworked
Or abused, so I let it ride thinking another job
Would not be so hard to find, but I was wrong
On the day I signed up for unemployment
The Twin Towers were destroyed
My problems were suddenly minuscule
In comparison to the human suffering
Experienced on that infamous September day
Afghanistan and later Iraq became war zones
Memories returned to slap me on my ass
And once again I was reeling over the loss
Of America's men and women trying all the
While to justify the bloodshed and senseless
Loss of life swimming in depression's rough
White waters and being sucked beneath its raging
Trying to find the connection between kindergarten
And politics and why we bother to make children
Behave them selves when grown men cannot
Then the forces of Nature herself seemed to be
At odds with America as one storm after another
Has beaten us leaving thousands without jobs,
Adequate housing, or medical care, and the war
Still rages and depression's vortex increases
Its volume spinning sucking all into its funnel--
I think my state in this Union is discouraged.
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