has ever died for my freedom.
It is but a lie, an untruth, and an affront
propagated by interests ruling our governing body,
as a cancer drives a body, cell by cell, toward
eventual capitulation of all moral force and integrity.
It does not matter which president sits, the die is cast;
profit at all cost in the unrelenting contest of greed,
cynicism, hypocrisy, incompetence and intrigue.
Young countrymen and women, with ever darkening futures
or none left to see at all, trained and indoctrinated, sent abroad,
trained but unprepared, schooled but not matured,
heroized with propaganda which respects not one of
their precious lives now fallen – not for my freedom, nor for yours.
It is a lie as a matter of policy, an untruth as a matter of duty,
an affront toward every soldier sent and fallen, and toward the families
they have left to mourn. But those who form the policies do not mourn,
so don't listen to them; don't attend their parades, don't buy their memoirs,
don't support their platforms or their calls, the ground is thin ice breaking.
Strike at the polls, vote them out, vote them out if you can – but can you?
No fallen American soldier in my lifetime
has ever died for my freedom or for yours.
Democracy is as precious as those fallen lives,
for it too is fallen, its cadaver carried high
in a frenzy of propaganda.
To love Democracy one has to first imagine it,
not play to its travesty, it is to embrace it within
where heart and mind might learn and mature –
this would be patriotic, but not politically correct.
The naiveté of my people does not excuse the ineptitude
of principle-challenged psychopaths who begin wars on a lie.
When free speech and critical opinion fall to the mainstream culture
of arrogance, ignorance and aggression, Democracy falls
and my freedom is at perile as is yours; patriotism,
a beautiful and a noble feeling in the heart,
becomes a whacked-out cocaine high when it is
toyed with, manipulated to justify cover-ups of crimes
no American can bear to be apprised of.
May I be pardoned in this, for being so un-poetic,
may I be pardoned for sounding so un-patriotic.
But do not pardon me for being politically un-correct.
Arrest me, charge me, throw me in jail – for there I will sleep no worse
than I do many many nights, far removed here from my home shores,
here on a continent being dragged into the American Dream of delusion.
I am no stranger to mourning the dead and the fallen,
I have learned to mourn the dismemberment of
differential analysis in favor of deference to
demonic ideological wills abroad and at home.
If the truth is slow to come to the surface
I will be around as long as it takes; if my deep concerns
are called irrelevant by the relativists of the day, then
let the Orks of Islam prove me out at the end of that day.
Am I saying something new, of course not,
but I will not court silence or appeasement, I will not behave.
I will not submit to the poison of insipid correctness,
I will stand corrected by historical evidence but I will stand
on my own two feet and strive to perceive with a heart immersed
in my very private love for Democracy and for patriotic values.
I remain an expatriate, but will never be an expatriot.
My weapon is prayer, my shield as well, the barricades I mount
are internal, and should I be called to the barricades on my own street
I will be there. In the meantime I burn this candle here,
unextinguished, for the fallen, for my freedom and for yours.
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