Lost Poems: For You and Me by Amber Koneval


Here’s a poem that I forgot I had written- it was written for a themed slam during Justice Week at my university a couple years back. Yes, it is one of the very few ‘performance’ pieces I’ve written. I prefer to write Written Word poems to be read calmly… but this is one of the few things I’ve written that I think deserves to be shouted. Let me know what you think.

For You and Me

“This land is your land
this land is my land
No, Not the same land
get behind the lines I’ve drawn
I’m not going to say please
and I’m not going to say it again
This land is my land
so kindly fuck off.

 

I’m too busy building my borders
to hear your pleading
So shut your foreign mouth
I don’t understand your gibberish
and its too much work for me to understand
So, if you please,
put some tape over your mouth before I
boot you back to poverty.
Thank you ever so much.”

 

Is this what we’ve come to?
Ringing around the rosy with a pocket full of bombs
stacking up the jenga blocks beneath the feet of
hicks with guns
its open-human season
If they can’t prove that their mother
squeezed them out while watching football and gobbling
apple pie
Shoot ’em, or test ’em,
Whichever kills their spirit first.

 

Instead of teaching our children about the world
we teach the world that the only people getting anything
are our children
which, attempts at self-preservation aside,
is not only selfish- its stupid

how long do we think we can play this waiting game with the rest of the world?
placing our children in bubbles while the world shoots up
like angry dandilions
spreading their wishes to the wind so desperately that they’ll get farther
to spite our bullshit
leaving us behind in our glass houses

how long do you really think we can stand alone?

 

alone is an illusion
created by people who want to take the glory of others
all for themselves
because they’ll never be good enough
to match them.

 

so care for your own good
I know that sounds quite selfish
but I’m so tired of appealing to better natures
that were never nurtured
that I’m going to go blue in the face
but I know I can appeal to your greed
American dream, right?

 

The strength of a people is measured by its weakest member
we are the People of Earth
we are weakening ourselves
If we can’t bring ourselves to change this genocide of dreams
for their sakes
then do it for your own
Because a dream killed,
is a generation massacred.

 

Fortune may favor the bold,
but preservation favors the cooperative.

 

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