A song...

Ejected out

into the dark sea stranded world

circa that Orwellian year

struck and set ablaze

like a signal flare

of generational distress

and discontent.

Now some two decades

of madness

and cultural slumping…

relegated out of place like

a landlocked lighthouse—

this is our beacon,

our hope

our drive

a desperation to shine

brighter than

that flypaper box

of streaming electron beams

and the Mtv race for

the bottom.

We are that oxidized-green light

and that longing

for a distant shore.

Give us your outcast,

your tired poor

with tear eroded raw cheeks

cut deeply in

mourning the death stillbirth

of the American Dream.