O Castle, Our Castle

America is not a glass house.Many throw stones.These ideas and fears will not penetrate.
Ideas come from those who do not settle.Fear from those timid towards curiosity.
Transparency a tale sold to the blind by the bought.America is a castle.
Built from the bricks of rebellion and the audacity of hope.
Sitting peacefully on the graves of the forgotten.
Our castle is protected by a moat, filled with the blood of slaves and the sweat of immigrants.
Cotton curtains laced with nappy threads are hanged to hide horrors.
Outside, voices of the voiceless echo to empty ears.The king sits on his throne.
Arrogance and ego find solace in his falsehoods.
The crooked move with straightened back.The wicked walk with sanctimony.
The fangs of justice find no skin to pierce.Truth a political perversion.
Lies a currency coined to create nonsense.The gates of privilege separate the castle from its worshippers.
They pray to its pillars.They’re prey to its pillars.Fallen cold and dead.
Branches of olive turned poison ivy.
Stories of silver linings feed the broken white, brown, black alike.
Classism as understood by the uneducated.Casted by the system as untouchables.
Color a charismatic charlatan pushing pigment.But in reality, there are only two.
Those that sell divinity, and those who revere it.
Those who see with both eyes shut, and those blinded the day they saw the sun.
Those that live inside the castle, and those that pray at its gates.
You see the castle belongs to us.The king a crowned puppet for the people.
Democracy a delicate dance that requires two to tango.
So when you're asked to save the last, remember the story of our castle.
Remember the names on every unnamed tombstone that lie beneath our foundation.
And dance like you're finally free.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem