"In my humble opinion, we're all fucked." - Socrates
Theoxigenises reports that these were in fact the dying words of the famous Greek thinker in his newly-discovered text, Assofunmeus Guffawaeus.
Theoxigenises, the youngest brother of Plato, born of the brief but passionate union of Plato's father, Ariston, and one of Ariston's slave girls, Trodupon, (celebrated in the poetry of the great Greek tragedian, Genitalianis), is one of the lesser-known Socratic students.
Scholars disagree on the precise teachings of Theoxigenises and many have dismissed his interpretations of Socrates' dialogues as misguided at best and outright deranged at worst. Recently discovered DNA evidence suggests that Theoxigenises actually suffered from ADHD, which may explain the at times disjointed iterations of Socrates' teachings in Theoxigenises' writings.
I awake and I see you, ‘merika! Waving your foam finger – a die-hard fan – for fear of failure.
I awake and walk your streets full of belching engines driven by morbidly obese homeless men; even in poverty, you are gluttonous.
I awake and I see you, ‘merika, in your offices, your homes, your home offices with degrees strung up on accent walls, wringing your hands over the latest news showing your man, your market, your team, your target, your dow industrial, GDP, ERA, NRA, UCLA, ACLU, IRA, GLBT, WMD, fundamentalist, activist, sexist, racist, homophobic, radical, terrorist, enemy combatant, immigrant, your us and them, your name here, up or down in the polls.
I awake and ride your trains full of sour vapid faces – ears on cell phones and ipods, eyes bent to glowing screens, fingers frantically texting, afraid to speak but to one self, afraid of others’ smiles.
I awake and stand, ‘merika, amidst your touring throngs marveling at the quarter billion dollar bean and see my own reflection there, guitar in hand, wondering, “what?”
I awake and sing, ‘merika! A song of my own making, written by you. My shame and pride are yours and mine. My failings, yours; yours, mine. I am of you, I am among you, I speak your tongue, ‘merika!
You cannot blame me more than I blame myself; we share it equally.
I awake a ‘merikin and wonder where I can go that rhymes and rhythms will not sound shallow and hollow, but ring hallowed, heard by more than one and sung by many tongues; I awake a ‘merikin, and dream American, wondering, “what?”