Poem: ‘Merica (Charles Manson is dead)
“to watch the TV screen for any length of time is to learn some really frightening things about the American sense of reality”
Charles Manson is dead.
Michael Brown is in the ground, found guilty and sentenced to death in three minutes by Officer Darren Wilson.
In ‘Merica where “Atticus was right” because Atticus Finch is white.
College quarterback Baker Mayfield is being punished for grabbing his own crotch while playing football.
In ‘Merica where voters elected Donald Trump:
“And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything….Grab ’em by the pussy. You can do anything.”
In ‘Merica where Roy Moore can’t go to the mall but may go the Senate, carried on the shoulders of white evangelical Christians.
Who believe some 14-year-old girls can look 20.
Charles Manson is dead. Allowed 83 years to die of natural causes.
In ‘Merica where Trayvon Martin, Jordan Davis, and Tamir Rice were executed like Brown in the ground for living while young, black, and male.
This browning of ‘Merica, drowning of ‘Merica.
O say, can you see: ‘Merica is browning. But the oven is overheated.
‘Merica is blacking out from the smoke because the kitchen is on fire.
While the man-child emperor is Tweeting.
Charles Manson is dead.
Like ‘Merica.
— P.L. Thomas
