Wednesday, October 2, 2013

manifest destiny.

Sweet un-American,
poor men with beards
drink to the souls
gone before them.

Perfect un-devotional,
your father tells you
it’s time to return
to the confessional.

Dear institutional,
this is not a time,
a place,
or a religion,
but only an idea.
With it comes the responsibility
 of holding back the stones
 that wants to be thrown.
We are not who
we pretend to be.

Crying perpetual,
we receive our spirituality
through greeting card episodes
and our dreams from movie star celebrities.
A promised better tomorrow,
bargained and settled for
a 24hr convenience store.
The convenience will be
charged to our children.
Their children
may only know
the answers given, not the questions.
Their children won’t even ask.

Welcome invitational.
This is the all glowing
state of reinventions.
Caravans and flotillas make their way to a new world mentality
where all other new worlds had failed them.

Grand recreational.
Highways run free to the oceans,
made up histories, 
make up attractions, 
along the way to eternity.
Posted along the side of the roads are our causes.
In our hands
sacred lands.

Proud American.