pride is a terrible thing to taste
pride for progross, for money, for waste
pride for your family, your country, your home?
pride for being able to roam
and escape all the hate
or pride for when you almost die, then keep on doing great?
pride for the CEOs counting their wealth,
pride for our doctors who can barely tell health, from a word in a book…
or an eye for the lie that caught us a crook?
pride for those dead, those alive.
pride for the ones who suffer while we eat up supplies?
pride for the wars, on foreign soils,
that bring us more hatred and more oil?
pride for the hope of a vote meaning change?
pride for the ability to be strange; for the daring to stare at the abyss your whole life, and try not to fear…
what gazes back into my eyes?
the abyss gazes back, pointing out my faults
its gaze is old and full of the past
when you stare long enough it will sap your last breath
its gaze is strong and thick like a tree
and its hunting for you and the new ideas that might be..
it haunts me constantly,
making me question all that i understand and hold in my hand

to be human is to err,
now americans have failed again to share
their wealth of “wisdom,” their inventiveness and wonder…
lost to the joys of imperial plunder
it makes me sad to see a bum on the street,
as sad as the blisters, on my feet.