American kids

A poem by Erik Green

Inoculate me oh God
To the darkness of my heart
Land which has fled into the arms
Of anesthetization, peculation
The demise of education
The art of murder without trepidation

They’re cultist drones of the video box
Marching in soporific waves of pheromones
Eating with ravenous minds they are
Gorged and sated
Technology’s antennae latched to their heads
Beep, ring, buzz, ding,
What? Yes? Oh what do you mean?
Never would our ancestors have foreseen
This, a terror, a horror like death
Apathy, ignorance, maelstrom, duress

Did it start with war in Europe?
Or Communism and reds
Or hippies or yuppies
Or kids with wild dreads?

Now there’s just not a purpose
Nor cause to be found
Idle hands, dismal sounds
For the children lost
Have no solace now