Tuesday, July 16, 2013


written after a summer trial by jake kilroy.

amid the protesters and politicians,
there came a weak cough,
belonging to the inner children
of everyone watching television,
reading newspapers,
listening to the radio,
scrolling every screen,
as the news came.
and it hurt,
to be here,

literature gave us a country.
movies gave us a nation.
reality gave us a visa.

"you're still welcome here, but tread lightly.
this soil is for national parks and cemeteries.
we like to use every part of the american."

broken-hearted, mass-produced,
we were saved by the godless
not asking for a handout.

schools gave us the history,
education gave us the truth,
all while we were busy learning,
we didn't realize who was who.

we're beyond manifest destiny. we're backtracking now.
we're pulling chains across the prairie and it's quiet somehow.

we were given portraits of
barrel-of-rum-chested men
and paper-thin women,
told that it's so easy to be
but so impossible to fit in.

we were handed a past,
though we couldn't sell the present,
and now the future's so bright,
we can hardly open our eyes.
we're on lockdown,
we're at comedown,
so we're counting now,
waiting for just one more
to finally do something.

No comments: