the hard-up, hard-press from the iron
around us all: the pinkness above us
and the thieving hands from
below; the forrest green to the west
and the bitter sip of fancy teas
to the east when we'd much rather have
coffee with no frills thankyouverymuch.
American with you i feel
the love you instilled up me and my
grandmother as she sang your praises
through her accent
and when she died you thanked her
by giving her a dime for her pinebox
even though it took fiftythousand dimes
to put her in your free soil.
America with you i feel
like i am in the hands of God
when God's voice booms and opens
paradise up for us
but instead of caring for the land
we eat the Fruit over and over
and let the beasts die only i cannot hear
the voice of God over the television set.
America with you i feel
the pride that i with my skin color
can reap the land of milk and honey
for all its worth
only after i read the lands of those
who have had their fill of milk and honey
and i get the milk that's gone sour and
the honey that's crystalized.
America with you i feel
that i don't know you anymore.
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