this was my first entry. from another journal.

America this poem is for Ginsberg

hands writhe beneath the press,
they're losing fingers,
and our thousand newspapers print nothing but falsehoods,
all the news that fits,
Associated press, who are you associated with?
is it with our president,
Do you say what he wants you to say?

america is war,
america is guns,
who is america?
i am not america,
ginsberg was america,
i am not canada,
who am i? am i connecticut? vermont? california?
am i anyone?

was he right?
am i a pawn in their game?
surely i am thinking too hard,
If my head explodes who cleans up the pieces?
my room mate and i sleep in the same room,
he sleeps with boys, i with girls.
that is beautiful,
america, why don't you think he is beautiful?
america, why can't he marry who he pleases?
these rights are self evident america,
even your founding father said,
"we hold these rights to be self evident"

my teacher came into class with his fly down,
i don't think he knew.
most of the class probably lost respect for him,
i think he's a good teacher,
a good teacher could come in naked,
if he had a point to prove,
i don't think there was a point.
i think he's a good teacher.

why am i.
who are you to tell me why i am?
it wasn't a question.
i am a question.
why am i.
is not a question.
the punctuation is all wrong.

who are we?
with our patriot act,
computers, hah i am writing on a computer,
what does that mean?

when are we leaving?
when are we getting there?

where ever i am.
that's where i am gonna be.

are you listening,
does anyone ever listen?
you can talk,
i hear you talk,
i don't really listen to you talk i don't think,
i think i listen to only what i want to hear,
but if i can't listen,
can i be heard?