Jared Barr, "Mr. Whitman'

[duathir.livejournal.com]

Cross-post from war_poetry:

Mr. Whitman

Mr. Whitman,
Despite what you think,
I hear America screaming.
They’re screaming:
“the problems are piling up
and it’s only getting worse, can’t you see?”
Problem number 1:
We put the foreign kids in cages
On the borders edge
While 2:
The ones we call our own
Are shipped out in body bags
From our schools every other week…
Like clockwork.
Sometimes,
I wonder,
Who has it better?
But these shootings in the schools,
Their body counts are competed by
3:
The boys in blue
And their abuse,
But what you gonna do?
Speak your thoughts, let them spew?
Who’s gonna listen to you?
Everyone's on their cell phones
‘Cause 4:
the wifi rules, can’t you see?
It’s well known, to me
But unlike 5:
the neo-nazis
That walk the streets,
Brave and strong
As if they belong
WiFi's got no bias,
Unlike the Klu Klux
It just tries to divide us
Betray our trust
Tell us that 6:
Global warming’s nothing but a bluff
Just like 7:
What comes out of these politicians’ mouths
When the election dates come
But when we say “no more lies,”
“Enough!”…
All they give us is another two word lie
“Of course.”
and when they reach the oval office
All that they do
Is 8:
Suppress us
Censor us
Contain us
With the military meant to protect us
But nothing will stop 9:
The fire in our hearts
they try to subdue
Just to name a few!
Mr. Whitman,
Despite what you think,
America is in trouble
We need to step our shit up
and put that shit down
but we sit on our ass in our comfy nightgowns
As a man under the same sun
Under the same flag
Under the same “Great, Great” man
Hits… The ground
Down, Down, Down.
Bang.
Another one bites the dust.
And by dust I mean the bullet
The bullet that came from that police officer
You know, the white one
No, the other one
No, the other one
No, the- y’know what, never mind
Because who really cares?
‘Cause as soon as the body drops
Everyone’s gotta be on the top
Tweeting “Hashtag Bodybag”
From the high to the low
From the famous
To the faceless.
Screaming:
“Eyes off the body,
The problems at hand!
Look at me,
I’ve got all the new brands!”
Likes, shares, and subscriptions
Are the new monetary system
I swear I’m about to have a conniption
Over this decryption addiction
Mr. Whitman,
Despite what you think,
I hear nothing.
America is silent.
China is detaining Muslims,
Force feeding them
Pork and wine.
America is silent.
Children are stolen from their parents
For the heinous crime of
seeking a better life
Forced into cages like animals
America is silent.
Venezuela is dying
Its people are starving
Russia is sending troops in
Our government is planning a takeover.
We’re closer to world war 3
Than we have been for the last fifty years
America is Silent.
Last week, 5 shootings happened on US soil.
America is silent.
On dark days like these,
I wonder,
Are we worth saving?
Y’see, the people who lead us,
Are more than atrocious.
They run on bands of cash
And the dying dreams of the “fellow American.”
It’s do or die for us
In these concrete jungles
That liter America
Like plastic bags
on the side of the highway
And we all know that
What you give is what you get
but what you get is what they take
Under the name of “Social Security,”
Little do you know that money is dirty
Ripped from the hands of the poor
And “graced” upon their many checking accounts
And what they don’t take themselves
They’re given by those who want their own change.
Those of great wealth that want to keep it.
The “lucky” one percent.
Lucky because of where they were born
Not what they’ve done.
But their small minds can’t comprehend
That for every politician bought
There's another hundred thousand shots
But despite what you think
They’re not in the Middle East
You see, the war is in our streets
Brother on brother
Bonds built by broke bastards
Broken by bizarre beliefs.
Loyalty’s for the loony
And trust... trust means nothing more
than a verb in the dictionary.
Mr. Whitman,
Despite what you think,
America is confused.
History says that the Union won the Civil War
But I look out my window
And I think different
History says that the Allies won World War 2
But I look out my window
and I think different,
Because when I look out my window
I see the Nazi and Confederate flags
Flying more than the American flag.
It’s looking more,
and more like an invasion.
The fascist power hasn’t died
The racist thought hasn’t died
They’ve simply hidden themselves...
in our home turf.
Mr. Whitman
Despite what you think,
I am afraid.
I am afraid, because
People say sticks and stones
will break your bones
But words?
Words’ll cause psychological trauma that’ll never heal,
But for who?...
I am afraid
Because the year is 2019
And it’s been decided that hate is the best solution.
I am afraid
Because why tell the teacher
Just to be called a snitch
With no real solution
When bullets can do the talking just as well?
I am afraid
Because who’s gonna fuck with you in class
When you strap your daddy’s semi-automatic on your back?
I am afraid
Because I find it more,
And more of a requirement to ask,
“Is that a gun in your pocket?
Or are you just happy to see me?”
I… am afraid.
And I’m not afraid to admit it,
But it seems like everyone else…
Is, they don’t want to admit it
so instead they beat it
They hurt it
They hurt what they fear
And then they fear what they’ve hurt
Because what they’ve bitten
Has come back to bite
And they bite… hard
Now who are we talking about
You might be confused
But that’s the point, you see
We fight back but who fought first?
We don’t, we won’t know
We live on revenge,
We live on anger,
Yet we preach on peace
A place where the good go
But all I see… is an empty sky
Forgive and forget.
An oldie but goldie
But it’s all we have left.
Mr. Whitman,
despite what you think,
I love America.
That I won’t deny
Despite what I imply
It’s proved by the colors I fly.
All I want is change,
and change doesn’t come with one...
It comes with the many.
Alone I’m a lighter
But together we’re a wildfire.
Each of us with a different flame.
There is a hot wind blowing,
I am just warning and preparing ya.
There's a hot wind blowing…
And it’s coming for America.
I hear them screaming,
Mr. Whitman.
Do you?

By Jared Barr