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North American Dreaming: Different Drum

...O how blessed it would be if we could find the forbidden fruits of peace...

William Burkholder's poem expresses the feelings of a good man in a bad age.

Do visit Bill's Web site http://www.freewebs.com/nirvanasgate/index.htm

I have been accused of banging a drum to my own rhythms.
At times off-beat with the quo, non lock-stepping
Cracking off keys in wind up human clock-works.
Call me cynic, but I am tired of blindly believing
Media mediocrity, stench swelling my nostril
Blood beating TV screen and radio speaker,

O how blessed it would be if we could find the forbidden fruits of peace,
Yet we dine with indignity and destruction, malfunctioning menus,
Where the white snow of late hour TV screen is instead,
Drenched with blood and gore of war and amputated children,
Dirty bandages autographing our hearts,
Rusty bedsprings squeaking from saltwater wash downs and yet,
No amount of water will ever wash the carnage away.

Is it so difficult to reason why a different drum must be played?

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