If a libertarian rails on the internet...

Do they make a sound? Probably not, but I'm operating on the assumption that a little libertarian lamenting never hurt anyone right? It's a little preachy. If you don't like it, here's a jumping monkey in a blue shirt.

In the Last Days of the Idea that was America

In the last days of the Idea that was America, I saw fields of gold and green,
each waiting to give their harvests of grains and play.
I saw small creeks running through city parks, and shady trees overlooking suburban sidewalks.
I saw the lines that joined the smaller dots on the map to the larger dots on the map also join daughters to mothers, and fathers to sons.

In the last days of the Idea that was America, I saw children playing, crying, breathing, becoming.
I saw mothers putting on backpacks and sending them off to school,
I saw fathers turing on camcorders and watching them walk across the stage.
I saw boyfriends, girlfriends, and old friends leave each other for new friends, living and striving, hoping to find the dream that was America.

In the last days of the Idea that was America, there was white and red and brown and black, churning together in the maelstrom of the world, and the colors of thier swirling and churning were the paints that fueled America.
There were limitless resources, for there was nothing that was not for sale.
There were limitless possibilities, for America was big enough for any idea.
There was limitless ignorance, for without memory, even ideas can be silenced.

In the last days of the Idea that was America, I saw security cameras and reckless driving laws, and I felt safer.
I saw walls going up and lists being made, and I felt reassured.
I saw the news and read the paper and knew something was being done to protect me, to protect me from the things that were not America.

I heard the man on the radio say that our side was winning and was right, and I felt good about being on the right side.
I saw my candidate win on election day, and I felt better about being on the winning side.
I saw money being taken and was told that it helped people, and I felt less guilty about having so much in a world with so little.
I saw promises broken and I didn't feel bad, for those promises are always broken.

In the last days of the Idea that was America, I saw Thomas Jefferson on my money, but I never heard what he said.
I saw Patrick Henry outside my public library, but I never knew why he was there.
I saw George Washington lauded by everyone, but all I ever heard about him was that cherry tree story.

In the last days of the Idea that was America, I was too content to consider, too warm to worry, to happy to care, and I knew too much to be troubled.

Too much? That wasn't so bad.
Too much that wasn't so. That was bad.
In the last days of the Idea that was America.