The Civilized World Poem by James McLain

We, whom are forced to salute you are bound by the grave.
Conflicts are as flies, that walk on closed eye's prying
at the corners to see.
Good men that claim to be do nothing, men that are bad define good?
Children covered in dust will not again rise.
One man will not converse with the other, father justifies.
Women whom are poor that are coloured in grief, bring more
babies that have refused to come back into the world.
American women hurry in their hast with the same baby with
two small legs, hanging out between their legs.
Floating above they discourse, there is no life being two.
I can't remember my life after death, verily I remember my death.
Suffering is not suffering to those whom don't suffer as in life.
Life was not life to those forced to live whom have died.
Hurried in death while waiting to live is the worst kind of
living to die.
Who are we the American undesirables?
I won't see or hear the drone that drops a bomb on my house?
In fear I shit my pants, the hidden camera can never lie.