Match up: Me vs America

I am tired of the News and it’s proud reports of negativity. I know that been informed on the dealings in the world is something that with the beginning of television has been a tool or resource of communicating to the world at large about the things that affect us, yet it has also become a run for the most dramatic solicitation of ghetto wounds, broken seals of faith and daily play book of our “money crisis”/ The less money the more vile the reporting s of urban neighborhood crime and of course I truly enjoy the comparison to days passed that seem to accompany the fact by fact commentary by anchors and on site reporters. I am sitting in turmoil of how we as Americas have become so brainwashed by the trappings of the world. The pursuit of money by any means necessary has completely drained us of our humanity. We with the change in morals have lost the ability to be compassionate and are now zombies of a creation provided to cause the instant requirement of lessening the spirit and increasing worry. How much am I worth, how well do I project this image of grandeur. Not many ways to show a loving soul, a notice of the wealth in spirit and heart. I am not a very good American. I don’t have any material glitter to sprinkle next to my name, no mark of superficial fame. No demanding opinion of the street called Wall and most importantly I don’t have the tools necessary for American dreaming. No burn in the pit of my belly to create a tangible and decimal defining portfolio of my humanly value. Me and American do not seem to agree. I cry for pain and fight for smiles. I rather grip my pen, speaking about the novelty of love, and spiritual freedoms, kiss lips of lovers than count my custom duvet covers, I rather dance to loud and energetic quartets of decibels, then be one of the “yes” sir solders. I like the feel of the sun daily, and only want to vote when it sells compromise, or change. I am not so proud to say I am an American. Will they claim me as my words begin to grow with robust textures that are ragged, jagged with disdain for the beliefs that conformity teaches, the shallow love man made dogma preaches. Think the war I am fighting started on this soil here beneath my feet, labored in my heart, and daily seeing but not settling for defeat.


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