In the city of darkness
There are those who weep
Those who sing love songs
Piercing cries to God for mercy

In the suburbs at dusk
Lives with shattered dreams
Eat gourmet dog food
Off of silver dishes

All along the lanes
To the end of the circles
Lights are springing on
Another day’s gone by

We try to hold it together
Save face while dancing with the rest of the world
America, the dynamic leader, is a closet bulimic
Consuming as fast and as much as possible
It is all just as suddenly vomited in a neatly tied
Wrapped in plastic, garbage pile deposited
At the edge of the front lawn
Early in the morning, it is picked up and
Carted off before we see the extraordinary waste
Sucked up into Mommies’ belly

Sing all for the American way
With single shots of red, white and blue
What will the people say?
What will the people do?

Some warriors will throw stones
The masses might protest
Many will be killed by the police
Some will criticize the government
Others will sit and watch the drama unfold
Mumbling curses under their breath

Most will do nothing
The people will do nothing

Addicted to medications
Minds frazzled
Bodies broken in pain
The people are unconscious
To the horrors of what is coming
Detention camps being assembled
To imprison those who resist

Cry America, cry
Shed tears for your homeless, your sick, your poor
Die America, die
Or together in peace, we can create the cure

(Excerpted from Songs & Poems From Suburbia© by Delia Quigley. To be published Fall, 2018.)