by Buff Whitman-Bradley
I live in a country
Proud to invade
Proud to destroy
Proud to kidnap and murder
The leaders of other sovereign nations
I live in a country
Too brutal
Too lacking in a sense
Of our shared life on the planet
Too impatient and inarticulate
To negotiate its aims
So it vociferates instead
Using bunker-busting bombs.
I live in a country
With an embedded elite
That controls massive amounts of wealth
And leaves millions
Lacking in the wherewithall
Necessary for a decent
Productive and creative existence.
I live in a country without leaders
Only capos
Without a vision of a better world
Only hackneyed slogans
And faded old Batman comics
Without the music of hope
Only the cracked ballads of despair
Played on one-string shoebox guitars.
I live in a country
That fervently worships
Only itself
Mad with the fear
That it is rapidly losing its place
As the hegemon
A country that is
Flailing away hysterically
Demanding that the rest of the world
Keep paying tribute and obeisance
And endlessly fawning
Like a Hollywood lacky
Assuring the fading star
“You are still beautiful.”
I live in a country whose mountains
And prairies and woodlands
Rivers and lakes and streams
Are beautiful
Whose ordinary citizens
Are still mostly good and kind
But whose leaders
Are a pack of craven
Crooks and scammers and parasites
Who use their positions and powers
To bully the populace
And upholster their own pockets.
I live in a country whose leaders
Make it a very difficult land
To love
But let us all keep standing
With our neighbors against
The cruelty and criminality
The self-absorption and toxic greed
That prevails in high places
And raise another banner on the flagpole
The banner of universal humanity.
Proud to invade
Proud to destroy
Proud to kidnap and murder
The leaders of other sovereign nations
I live in a country
Too brutal
Too lacking in a sense
Of our shared life on the planet
Too impatient and inarticulate
To negotiate its aims
So it vociferates instead
Using bunker-busting bombs.
I live in a country
With an embedded elite
That controls massive amounts of wealth
And leaves millions
Lacking in the wherewithall
Necessary for a decent
Productive and creative existence.
I live in a country without leaders
Only capos
Without a vision of a better world
Only hackneyed slogans
And faded old Batman comics
Without the music of hope
Only the cracked ballads of despair
Played on one-string shoebox guitars.
I live in a country
That fervently worships
Only itself
Mad with the fear
That it is rapidly losing its place
As the hegemon
A country that is
Flailing away hysterically
Demanding that the rest of the world
Keep paying tribute and obeisance
And endlessly fawning
Like a Hollywood lacky
Assuring the fading star
“You are still beautiful.”
I live in a country whose mountains
And prairies and woodlands
Rivers and lakes and streams
Are beautiful
Whose ordinary citizens
Are still mostly good and kind
But whose leaders
Are a pack of craven
Crooks and scammers and parasites
Who use their positions and powers
To bully the populace
And upholster their own pockets.
I live in a country whose leaders
Make it a very difficult land
To love
But let us all keep standing
With our neighbors against
The cruelty and criminality
The self-absorption and toxic greed
That prevails in high places
And raise another banner on the flagpole
The banner of universal humanity.
Buff Whitman-Bradley podcasts his poetry at thirdactpoems.podbean.com
