America

Something is going on in America right now that defies description, even by a poet.

Twisters.

For the maybe

There are three hours

With full support

Padding from pads

To the room

With all the ravers

The baloons

Hold them good

Give to the humans

Free the baboons.

Sad poem.

Not a place of dreams

Everyone is dealt a bad hand

The demons get to laugh

The angels cry


Not a place of dreams

We put on our smiles

And hide our scowling screams

As a boomerang bangs


Not a place for dreams

Power doesn't mean anything now

Just a bowl of rotten schemes

And roses get danced upon


Not a place of dreams

Fear is open for business.

Learn anything else..

There is a strong sense of new now.k