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The Americana Jungle

Mark Martin


Bathing in their own sunless filth ridden jargon they wield their Neanderthal

One sided view of creation.

They sit scratching their ape like craniums masquerading their betterment over the

world but alas they sit falsely in their royal imminence, their throne set atop a state

In its own country, foundations set and barricades ready for the intrusion of multinationalism and unique out spoken free spirits, the two enemies most hated

They spout foul bile, full  of false tongues and unintelligible jargon directed at

Those in hopes they will win but, they sit, the clowns of the worlds fair,

Laughed at in the streets, pubs and steps of every university. Laughed

At by those whose global passings have gone beyond their own ledges

Their offspring are pitiful carbon repeated, like a broken record spinning

Scratched and distorted beating forward the farce of their ancestors that

Set foot on mounds of ideas squishing the inventive like ants

Bashing their skulls like grapes between the toes in hopes

That the ideas will not infect others but wash away

In their victory drunken stupor

They load up their armor and travel east looking for

The first eclectic souls to steal from and maim in violent ignorance

            When they are finished the return faceless to those of open eyes

And spirits. Their names are as sands tossed in a storm and lost in

The millions of other unrecognizable grains whirling past

In a violent turmoil. They fear the leader of the free

World because his flesh is alien to their eyes but they do not truly see their flesh

Is as his, their lungs and every cell equal from the womb of mother origin.

They have shuttered their eternal window and locked down every path to enlightened

Rooms of fertile growth. They pass the finger to those in their way screaming

In their crude dialect in hopes they will be the dominate beast of the Tar Serengeti.

Push and push again they force their way into the false super sense of self

Seeking what they cannot from within but traveling outward to the whore, ail and any lesser ranking savage of the same tribe to impress upon and look superior too.

Feeding of those moments to fuel their lustfully un fill able reservoir.

They seek the meekest of their own for breeding stock and take them as a prize.

Beating them down like the pup of a heartless master drown out in the rays of their

Glory and paraded like the trophies of mount Olympus. Taking every last speck of soul out of their victim until all that remains is a shell of decayed echoes long since buried with the kings and queens of atlantian dreams.