I came to America in search of promise and adventure.
No.
I came to America in search of my childhood.
Seinfeld at seven, my mealtime pastime.
Every toy I had to play with, stars and stripes-approved.
Seventeen thousand kilometres away, so far!
A foreign people half who I am, never a need to question.
I came to America to be inspired.
One awash with bright lights and candy!
And music. And color, without the letter “u”
And movie heroes and drive-thru pit stops.
“Oh dad, please. Please can we have a happier meal?”
I came to America to feel freedom.
Sick of banging on the walls, Is anybody hearing?
Surely the States isn’t as closed-minded as we.
A land of opportunity, I want to go now.
How unfair to have been born so isolated.
I came to America to understand where my allegiance lay
For proudly we would run into the fray,
No questions asked, our enemies shared,
We bleed for an End, Vision. It’s one and the same.
So happy am I to be as lucky as I am.
I came to America, utterly through with all I knew.
Stuck in such a big small place, same things over and over
Where nothing ever changes, because nothing, ever, changes.
Just one plane ride to brave, no more could I swallow,
Already ready for that first jolt of tarmac.
I came to America, the day at last had struck!
Two bags zipped, funds famished, no matter.
Excitement erupting, more than I could handle.
Jet lag and kink neck melt away.
Saw an overpass rusting on Broadway. I cried.
I came to America to fulfill my dreams.
New York wonder coursing through my system.
Suck down a shake, splash cash on a counter.
This is what it feels like, give me more, give me more.
Wishes once wished upon, deeply, float finally to the fore.
I came to America to see the top of the world.
I wanted to plant feet on my own foundations.
Solid, yet shaky, grab something to support me.
Notice the cracks. Look down, look closer.
Each one has a story, stepping on the life of some, other.
I came to America to experience true prosperity.
Make your own way and dig up that fortune.
Take, take, take it all it’s all yours for the taking.
Hands reach out, wanted what you want.
Take from them too, no one tells you what to do.
I came to America to find a new life.
It’s my right, it’s your right, it’s everybody’s right.
But only if you’re right, so make sure you pay the grade.
Those that don’t, land on a pile Forgotten.
On the subway no one looks you in the eye.
I came to America to catch a glimpse of the future.
This is where it’s made, the allure of red white and blue.
There are problems with production, not what used to be.
Too late to recall, it’s packaged, ready to ship,
A sickness on its way, nothing anyone can do.
I came to America to regain lost hope.
Hard to find. It’s slowly running out,
Billboards flaunt lives snuffed everyday. Everywhere.
Maddening. Eyes flush with hot futility.
Elevator is empty, yet full. They don’t seem to notice.
I came to America in search of promise and adventure.
What I got were endless, eagled flags, each one at half mast.
A quick note
This poem is part of a small series I wrote while navigating the NYC subway system.
not the place for it came about after depression unexpectedly kicked me to the gutter during my time in a city I'd always dreamed of living in. It's my first attempt at poetry and only came about as a result of a microdosing experiment I'd undertaken in an attempt to overcome what I was going through.
This experience of writing out the muck while hurtling through the darkness in an ageing metal snake, while under the influence of psilocybe cubensis helped me claw a way out of the despair in a way traditional therapy was never able to.
Anyway. Just thought you should know that.