my country tis
of thee
filled with scum ( human )
and fleas

four amber waves of grain
and planes that crash through
trees in them fields there

rockets red glare stare
bombs belching in your (h )air

test tube babies
folks with dogs rabies

abortion , for score and
seven years ago
our forefathers
kicked their pregnant
girlfriends in stomachs
so their wives wouldnt find out

my country tis
of thee
land of mental poverty

~M~

mykehl myers

copyright - february 1995