I was born in America.
America is a foreign land.
I was taught to worship freedom.
But freedom was a flimsy word
whistling on the raging wind.
I was taught that liberty
was the proud offspring
of our forefathers.
But liberty was the bastard child
slyly aborted
in the place where I was born.
In America,
they speak with glib tongues.
In America,
they show you pictures
and sing songs.
In America,
they build shrines
and flock like pilgrims
to grovel and worship and blindly applaud.
In America,
they give you credit
and from that credit
you are forever beholden
to their golden debt.
In America,
they let you speak,
but when you speak
you are branded freedom’s enemy.
And the enemies of freedom
are the enemies of the land
where I was born.
Born in America,
there are no guarantees.
Born in America,
the native peoples
were herded and corralled.
Born in America,
the children of immigrants
illuminated by Our Lady’s beacon
were beaten and jailed.
Born in America,
the children of poverty
were harnessed and abused
deprived of their humanity
drugged and sexed and raped and plundered.
And when their value faded,
they were stripped of their dignity
discarded like refuse
tossed in the streets
to wither and die.
For to be born in America,
where freedom is a whore
to lure the masses,
is to be born in a prison
in the foreign land
where I was born.
I was born in America.
America is a foreign land.
America is a land
where dreams are raised and slaughtered.
America is a land
where puppets prance on Satan’s string.
America
my lover
jilted me
left me worthy of no other.
I was in love with America
but America was a strumpet
gaily glittered in silver and gold.
I was mesmerized by America
but America snapped her fingers
and stirred me from my senseless dreams.
I was born in America.
I was torn in America.
I was scorned in America.
I was forlorn in America.
I was born in America.
And America is a foreign land.
© 2017 Mike Maggio
