kiss me ginsberg with feeling

rabbit is that you?
they've come for us all.
one by one in rows of 10 they'll find you.
frittering away, working countless hours towards what?
15 cents and a christmas bonus that'll really keep you slaving away.
poor towns folk, no need for the mammals in the automated assembly line.
you know what they make in there?
soldiers and body bags, one of each for each of you who disagree.

have you ever seen the place where doubt is an unwelcome fiend that burns desires from man?
its just past that podium where they hand you your walking papers.
exchange paper hat for helmet and nylon gown for m-16

survivors not accepted here.
the weak are the easiest puddy to form fire and glaze.
no air bubbles showing shoddy craftsmanship, just a uniform design and a stamp
"made in america, by subcontractors outside Guatemala"

so much blood and motor oil
turns the wheels of war machines
this factory produces corpses at a rate not yet defined.

america inc.

your products always sold much better when made in taiwan

miniature flags hand woven from burlap and sycamore
the glue that keeps us running in circles after the dream you televised was promised as achievable and dolled up before greenscreen to look desirable

a mass grave america, i'm not sure i belong
the factory stench of old friends and loved ones
my sinus infection blocks none of the fumes

are you listening, do you hear the flesh boil, the bones snap?
can i borrow a cup of sugar before the late show reveals the first bit of real truth in days?
napalm and new clear visions of a world without flesh

tell of your plans to rid the world of obsolete pieces of a burnt out puzzle, like life liberty and the pursuit of happiness

the stroller was melted to the sidewalk, just an infant
another with one eye now and still able to see what we all miss behind thinly veiled slight of hand

america inc., your only problem is a lack of solutions, but the world is getting crowded

take the rivers and lakes and mountains
take the grass and melt it down
every sapling is another potential reminder of a brighter yesterday

now under the desks children, Formica was designed by nasa to withstand a nuclear holocaust
don't be frightened there will be others to take your place

i miss the smell of soil and cigarette smoke, the dust flaking off my tattered clothes as i wander through freight yards in search of a cure for this cancer
america inc. the gay ole carcinogen
fly your flag of misery
at half mast
your fathers dream was buried alive