Living the American Memory
This is how it is
And this is how it should be
These are the smiles, the lies
The people you know
Who faint into nothingness when seen,
Because they become born
Because they become hole
Because they are someone
And expand
So this is how we’ve grown
And this is what we’ve forgotten
Ourselves are not who they were meant to be,
You and I, we make a minimum
A dime a dozen for the thought
A bird in the bush for a dream
Both dead
And dripping red, white, and blue.
And this is how it should be
These are the smiles, the lies
The people you know
Who faint into nothingness when seen,
Because they become born
Because they become hole
Because they are someone
And expand
So this is how we’ve grown
And this is what we’ve forgotten
Ourselves are not who they were meant to be,
You and I, we make a minimum
A dime a dozen for the thought
A bird in the bush for a dream
Both dead
And dripping red, white, and blue.
♠ ♠ ♠
This was a comment I wanted to make during a stream of consciousness rant. It was a whole lot longer originally but I like this shortened version a little better (though it's not one of my favorites). I think this poem sticks with me for it's last lines 'Both dead, and dripping red white and blue.' somehow I just can't bring myself to throw this one away. Maybe it'll speak to someone else too.