AN- This poem was finished 3/13/02, and therefore focuses more on the commercial aspects of America. And if you review, please use grammar/punctuation/proper spelling. It isn't really all that tough, and I'm getting sick of people saying nonsense like, "dood ur pome was grate plz r&r myn" It will be appreciated a good deal. And yea, I know I don't always use proper grammar in the poem. That's on purpose.

America: The Infomercial
A solitary flag flies,
As neon-lighted signs release their bellows
Ordering us to buy their goods.
Little numbers change slightly, as men yell and scream like children; telling the numbers to go up, up.
But still we drive our SUVs
With tattered flags trying to escape to the wind.
If we could change one thing, would it be Poverty?
Can you assure me that we want World Peace?
No, we'd want a new wardrobe,
Or a shiny-new color TV.
We desire the consumer-driven dreams of peace in our lives and wealth
That we never truly receive.
People walking mindlessly shopping mindlessly, their designer shoes clipping on the worn tiles,
In a mall lit by neon signs and crowded with banners promising
The best, to look good, be a supermodel when you wear the right clothes, perfumes.
And I sit here in this open commercial haven,
Crowded in by the mindless people, empty promises and fake trees.
Money is everything here,
And I watch as the tattered flag turns new,
Turns into a crisp, green federal note.