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Christian Hoard

of

Kentwood, MI, US

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America, I love you

by

Christian Hoard

America, I love you.
I love you because you live for a smile or a wink
I love you because you don't make me think.
America, I love you because I'm told I should
I love you because I don't live in your hood.
America, I love you because of the TV news.
I love this because I don't have to choose.
America, I love you for being the place of my birth
I love that I'm told you're the best on the Earth
America, I love your forests and mountains and land
But this is just front, the shirt (not the brain) of the man.
America, I love you because you're not at all fake
Like this rhyme that's disturbing the point that I'll make.

America, I love you because you give us freedom
and also provide a nice little instruction booklet on how to use it.
America, I love the way you take the whole of being human
and chop it into a tangible object
and mass-manufacture it like cheap Taiwanese plastic
And I love you because you were kind enough to give me
one of these products of your infinite wisdom
free of charge.
America, thank you for making it okay to hate
the communists and the racists
(I hate them too because it's okay)
I'm a white male capitalist with a car and a future
Who is proud of himself and to be an American
as long as America agrees (maybe it's the other way around.)
America, I love the opportunity that abounds here
Where a good athlete can make an honest living
Of a couple million dollars.

America, sue me but I don't think Nixon should've resigned
Sure he cheated and lied but at least he knew why he did it.

America I love your baseball.
That pitch you threw at the mirror you used to hold in
right front of your face
was one helluva shot.

America, thanks so much for keeping violence off of our TVs
Two weeks back I just flipped through 12 network channels
and still saw blatant displays of violent misguided-ness -
Each channel was carrying the State of the Union Address.

America, I love you for telling me to read Shakespeare in school
and making a book called rush limbaugh is a big fat idiot the best in the country
speaking of rush limbaugh, there is a wall about as large as he separating
that beauty which speaks an indescribable truth to my soul
and that intelligence which never seems to go with it in our America.

(America, I want to try a pick-up line like
"Hey baby, what's your social security number?"
and get smacked across the face not because
of the way the girl I said it to thinks I look
but because she and you realize how
incredibly stupid what I just said was.)

America, I thank you for taking what you think is
the best you have and using it to distract yourself from the
harsh and sometimes painful reality of the truth of our existence.
America, I love you because you're there to watch over us
in everything we do and say and think
America, I love you because you made me immortal
by brainwashing me at a young age.
America thank you for telling me swear words were bad
without giving me a good reason not to say them
America, thank you for big-ass TV's
And for not allowing us the reality of the big picture
America, thank you for the opportunity for all of us to become saints
as long as we do not consider why we would be a saint.
America, I love you for all of the wonderful things
that define my delusive albeit happy existence.
America, I love you because, even though you don't know her,
I know you love my mother and her apple pie, too.
America, I love you because you give us the freedom to vote
and do what is right
and deprive us of the trouble of bothering to know why.

America, I love you because you have the remarkable ability
to allow us all to be different
and still make us all the same.


The Commencement Lyric: The Springtime of Our Days

by

Christian Hoard

To the 1996 East Kentwood Senior Class

These are the days when one finds truth in spring
in greenish hues that summon birds
and speak a gospel without words.
These are the days when one finds most anything.

These are the days when skies spout blues
the azure swells in boundless streams
commensurate our room to dream.
These are the days when life is new.

These are the days when streams runs thence
that see not forward or behind
to melt away your captive mind.
These are the days when life makes sense.

These are the days when the flowers grow
the reds and greens and blues lament,
"the other has the better scent..."
These are the days when hope is all we know.

These are the days when the sun is glowing
that carves out heaven for its ray
to send our logic on its way.
These are the days when understanding distends, unknowing.

And these are the days when the sun ignores
that all these days have come before,
and kisses gold the cloudless skies.
That, endless, rise above our wayward eyes

That these days will last, I cannot say.
But as our memory fades away,
spring will come some other day
then whisper, softly, as he goes:

"These days are all we really know,
These days are all we really know."