Cry a little more

An ode to this fourth of July

Fireworks
strike,
the dark night,
of America’s soul,
as the clock
ticks,
from
1776,
to a future,
less certain,
beyond this
cruel curtain,
of contempt,
for others,
born from
different
mothers.

oh cry

for the new kings
have lost
their crowns,
and the queens,
have make-up
smudged
violently,
upon their
pretty faces,
I’m not sure
any of this,
has made
America
greater

cry a little more

for decency
is dying
as the leaders lie,
lying,
upon the facade,
of an idea
they broke,
upon the backs,
of the disillusioned
man,
who toils
the worn lands,
the fire is stoked,
and hatred boils,
don’t answer the door…
beware of the
woke???

yeah, cry a little bit more

for
old glory
sits upon
an old chestnut
mare,
resting his
bone spurs
in the stirrups of a horse
he will never ride…
dressed in stripes
he will never
wear,
carrying a flag
he cannot
bear,
oh yeah,
he sits upon
his high horse,
like a throne
as history unwinds,
and the clock
slowly ticks
all the way back
to 1776…

watch the fireworks and cry a little more