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Loved this poem. Loved the imagery. Loved how the physical writing looked on the page. Loved the content.
THE NEWER AND MORE IMPROVED AMERICA It’s 12:30 AM in the millennium. Do you know where your new and improved America is? Well I do, and let me tell ya, she’s got a lot more going for her than maybe you think she does. I know ‘cause I saw her squattin’ in the Coliseum parking lot, huddled under a blanket in the rain, with a Jaeger in one hand and a cardboard sign in the other lookin’ for the kindy kind lift to the Oregon Country Fair in any non-petroleum combustible vehicle available, and singing ever so gently about how she needed a miracle. The newer and more improved America just hit menopause and isn’t really that pleased with cold future prospects so prospecting must not stop under any circumstance and if that means delusional fantasies of turning third world dictatorships into a flowering Oasis of democracy than what need do we have of such things here so long as we can live the fantasy out in front of our highly resolved, highly pixilated pupils? The newer and more unproved America used to sell space, used to sell time; why, he even used to sell space time continuum but with the pink slip moving ever Eastward toward the once and future Celestial Empire, he only re-rents the time now. So this newer and more removed America has got to learn to be one leathery bitch, since the industry of franchising Wal-Mart in Tehran or Baghdad isn’t playing out so well. So make no mistake about it, the newer and more reproved America will someday find itself playing second fiddle to the newer and more improved Asia, as soon as the yen for slave labor can figure out a trendier way to consummate its perfect union. If the newer and more improved America can be a sport about it, he can still work the club circuit with Old Europe and Russia, cut movie deals with the Republic of California and sign book deals with the newer and more improved Manhattan. He can retire away to a hipster rave spa with Colonial Britain, and the Roman Empire, who will be sure to tell him to stop crying like a little bitch about the heathens and mongrels. Naturally, if the newer and more improved America gets really lucky, he’ll find his way to the back VIP room where Greece has already got the orgy going between Egypt and Atlantis. The Ming Dynasty had to leave quite suddenly…something about some old scores. Yet of the newer and more in-excused America still gets caught trying to run the market on the garbage cans around the periphery, like a hooker whose made the slide from the Tenderknob to Capp and dreams of running her own crew just as soon as she finds some bitches who are worth a shit. The newer and more improved bitches in South America, with good and fine benefactors to the East, may quickly tire of a manifest destiny that never seems to want to go away. I’d hate to be around when the collapse of those crisp, green, serial numbered party invitations go out of style and wind up causing World War III in our own backyard. It might be a good idea to duck when every target in sight starts getting iced; it might be a good idea to stock up on a few vitals items and some gunpowder of your own when history’s most bloated, corpulent, mercantile brain chip begins hemorrhaging on its own karmic cyanide. BUT MAYBE, MAYBE the newer and more improved America can roll with the times; leave behind the Shady Arms mobile homestead and create a whole new Velveteen Revolution, each citizen doomed to a shorter existence but a hell of a lot better time in it. ‘Cause ain’t the newer and more improved America been squatting in the Coliseum parking lot, huddled under a blanket in the rain, with lazy dreams and silly ideas powering the whole party into a therapeutic community of recovery and still crying out: We know We know We know We are: The wide with hope The wide with dope And the wide with cope We too are This power always flowing From East to West ‘Cause make no mistake jack What happens in Dubai Stays in Dubai And don’t think this red this white this blue And these stars and fucking stripes which themselves are a hymn to mass destruction Don’t have a penthouse waiting for them in New Vegas Beyond the reach of the vengeance of a crumbling empire We too You and I are The newer and more improved America.  Be first to comment this article |  Add as favourites (12) |  Quote this article on your site | Views: 251 | E-mail
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Agit Prop 101 
