American Dreams

The past,
memories called tears;
understandings
as old as rocks,
cold and hard.

Immortal as Gods
the ghosts of freedom
have penetrated
our lusts and desires;
twisting our hopes
into a powerful wanton dream,
a clenched white fist,
a glazed tomorrow.

A nation,
desperately clinging
to forgotten lies and drying tears,
trying to believe
in the past promises
of our bent and broken,
American Dreams.

by Sandra Osborne

Comments (3)

What can I say it's the American Dream...
Yes, this was written @ 1982. It is one of the earliest ones that I have posted.
Very good! Am I wrong in assuming that this was not created recently? You are saying something and saying it well. H