The United States of Anxiety (a spoken word poem)

December 25, 2018

welcome to the
united states of addiction.
in this country,
your smart phone
holds more meaningful moments
than your memory.
here, social media
is social justice
and history is a hashtag
for broken screens
to get their fix.
here, fame doesn’t
lead to fortune –
just first-world problems.
echo chambers
for people
at war with themselves.

in the united states of addiction,
the declaration of independence
isn’t for independent people –
the quiet-minded
who mind their own business.
in this country,
you can be an activist
by just being active on your phone,
retweeting revolutionary wars,
thumbprints of repetition,
standing up for something
without getting up from your couch,
self-indulgent shouts
with a global view,
but boomerangs of wisdom
from a bedroom in your house.

(this is a patriotic poem.)

welcome to the
united states of anxiety.
in this country,
society tell us
our credit should be straight
while selling us
the crooked path
of commercialism.
here, citizens take CBD oil
between awkward conversation
and the constant chatter of the mind.
boredom is not an option.
silence is not sustainable.
in the united states of anxiety,
instagram spoons with insomnia.
we swipe up and get out of bed,
wide awake with sleepy minds
then daydream of FOMO and flat screens –
the American dream.

(this is a patriotic poem.)

welcome to the
united states of assumptions.
in this country,
the color of your skin
allows automatic privilege!
(land, money, power, health,
monuments, legacy, generational wealth … )
here, anything unfamiliar is dangerous.
anyone who disagrees with you
is the devil.
in the united states of assumptions,
any poet who speaks about injustice
is an Obama-loving,
hip-hop bumping,
tree hugging,
emotional heartbeat pumping
soul of a man.
on the surface,
that may be true about me
but there’s many more layers
for you to see …

welcome to
the united states of aggression.
in this country,
we freely walk over broken bones
in the basement of buildings
built by the kidnapped and enslaved.
here, we walk on beautiful landscapes
and dance on graves.
welcome to America,
a walking contradiction.

this is a patriotic poem.