The Fourth of July

You shouldn't need me to tell you
Where the holy part of you is.

It's the part that cries at commercials,
And old TV theme songs,
And pictures of dead children in africa
In honduras
In haiti
In NC where you live.

Not,where you rush to ball games
With 5 dollars bills
Stepping around the homeless
With yellow eyes and hungry, starving livers
Twitching for dimes
For beer
For death.

Not packing the clubs in the SUV
To see fireworks and flash your yellow magnets,
And your MVP card for cheap steaks,
While you protest a war
You'll never feel,
Until your strappin young lad
Sees sunny North Korea in 2015.

Not facebook or twitter.
Not AIM,
Not I-phones or nextel.
You don't need me.
Just feel what it means to know
You're alone.
You can't save yourself
You can't save your kids
You can't love your wife
You can't stop the rust on your car's aortic valves
Or your own...

You don't need me to tell you;
Love it here!
Feel the heat,
Feel the cold
You're alive that's what it means
Suffer well,
And you feel,
Hide from life,
And you die.

I see the dead everyday.
I mock them and protest,
But jealous none the less.
Easier still to be dumb,
Than to flick misguided worms to the grass after rain.

Wrap it up,
You don't need me...
You know why hurt kids'll make you cry
Why old people want to die,
And why oh why don't I?