I seek solace in black hats and battered books while riding unknown railways and fulfilling naivety to the best of my ability
to escape the fear I bear for my own country
the existential dread threaded into the american dream
Comparatively, I dare not complain,
white American female I am, consumerist, unwilling capitalist, drowning in
the doom of the climate disaster, popular ignorance at play with arrogance and homegrown terrorism pointing fingers at the foreign
They say, give us your tired, your poor, your weary
give us your men that know how to make money
And if they know how, can they make it for me,
under the guise of the American dream?
There’s a gleam of light in the distance
it lures you in to this capitalist system
We’ve propped up dictators, we’ve done your drugs
and now we alienate you
you worthless thugs
They say the American dream is a privilege
that belongs to only certain immigrants
Give us your tired, your poor, your weary
give us your labor so that we can make money
They divide us, they turn our heads, they tell us not to feel
but we all know the american dream isn’t real
Hello! My name is Ayla Burnett and I live in Portland, Oregon. I am a poet, as well as a music and environmental/human rights journalist. I write two blogs. One, entitled Hedera, is where I post articles relating to environmental issues and human rights. You can find it at www.justice-journalism.com
The other features my poetry and music writing. You can find it at www.culture-of-the-underground.blog
My instagram is @aylaginger
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