Poetry: This is the Promised Land, This is the Sinking Ship

Rough draft of a possible spoken word project I am working on:

I am not going to ask anymore who drew first blood.
My people are still living crawling through mud
We saw the promised land on the other side of the river
Drinking milk and honey, the root that we were given was bitter
Ostracized by Confederates who don’t even know us
Isolated from the nation like those who crossed the ocean before us
its up to the sons and daughters, we have to build bridges
Retain cultural uniqueness, we reject the threat of a litmus

Will things ever get better?  Will we ever see ourselves as one nation?
We sit all day, watching and waiting for better news
But how easily we forget the past.
Forget about slavery.  Forget about the trail of tears.
Forget about Cambodia and the invasion of Veracruz
We all know history is written by those who conquer
Ignorance isn’t an excuse, we’re accidental monsters
First world guilt and we’re looking for indulgences
Forgive us of our sin, for not acknowledging the unfortunate
Jesus trusted us to take care of the sick, and to bring freedom to the innocent
But we have cold hearts, can’t recognize who the victim is
The working hate the poor, and we all hate the rich
Ninety nine percent blind, ninety nine on a sinking ship

We say no career politicians, don’t know what their motive is
The only one not attached to any super PACs is labeled a socialist
People say taxes, people say they’re taking our money and giving it to welfare queens
But perhaps if we could see things from the perspective of the other
We would see that it is not higher taxes, it’s reallocation
It’s about recognizing that on the other side of the world we are the ISIS to other nations
We don’t slither on the ground, and push a button to detonate
We watch from the skies, sometimes they’re sixty years old and something they’re eight
If I am the nation, yes they did attack me
So am I justified in taking the lives of collateral Iraqi’s?
I’ve married my religion to my politics so what do I tell myself?
God understands, God can see the big pic
I live in the Promised Land, I live in a Sinking Ship



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