479 - American Decay V2

 

Image : one of my own photos, taken during hiking. 

Trigger warnings due to content : suggestive material, anti-religion, anti-guns, critic of usa overturning roe vs wade

I was inspired to compose the text, mixing some Babylon 5's 1st season intro (you can read it here) and some Lord of the Rings reference (the One ring to rule them all...) 

Once again, I specify that I purposefully composed it with discordance, in view of the topic. I revisited this poem over a year after its initial composition - adjusting some words to match my translation into French, which was the hardest adaptation I've had to do, thus far, with my own poems. 

Although the core spirit from my stream of consciousness composition from June 2022 remains,  this is a second version, as changes include over 90 removals, even more additions, either of entire words, or capitalization, as well as layout, and the novelty of color-coding rhymes to spot them more easily. 

To previous version, entry 460

Medium entry with 624 words (poem itself) + 156 with adaptation examples in the bottom. 

American Decay - V2

It was the dusk of Human Rights.

Years after gaining progress,

religious dogmas repossessed the field;

Their goal was to delete every single achievement,

to overturn any victory

and enclose humans in old routine ;

In the old, backwards belief system of faith in the heavenly,

whose deity's existence's so uncertain.

Once more, women are constrained to births ;

Even risking their lives to compress.

As long as babies are born, States are thrilled,

the religious leaders soaring to contentment.

Any girl may be required to carry to term any baby,

it doesn't matter if she's too young and a fledgling,

it matters even less if pregnancy's against her wishes or health,

The State wants her to carry this herculean burden.

Personal choices over their own bodies in suspension,

Women and girls must obey their politician mates,

Or State's decisions to swallow,

Women and girls who get hurt are indefensible.

By miscarrying from stress or accidents, they can face discord and trial.

Often mistreated as fierce aggressors,

and sometimes even charged with malice and murders.

Hell may be an invention of religion.

but humans make it a reality with pro-birthing mandates,

Hell is unveiled, and now.

In the land called 'Murika, nothing is sensible.

White cis hetero and religious old gits,

women with internal misogyny, and minorities in denial,

decided to repel laws that advanced their society's predecessors,

backstabbing whole communities, justice's usurpers.

In the land called 'Murika, 2022 has been erased,

Trans rights have been burnt in prejudice's religious flames,

women and girls are deemed as such only in explicit biblical terms ;

A nation highjacked, its Courts in time-warp placed,

into olden-days' judgement frames,

opened the illicit can of worms.

Religious politicians don't need a Tardis, nor Delorean,

and even less a Starfleet starship to go back in time.

Forgetful are modern understandings of any historian.

Rights are now buried, deep in a murky pool of awful slime,

50 years have already been thrown in the sewer.

Open mindedness sacrificed on a disgust's skewer,

centuries more are on the way of this forced labor,

This is indeed one dark hour, tasting ever so faked and sour.

'Murika was presented as an unparalleled land of dream,

where anyone and everyone could achieve a worthy goal.

Where truth could be built and shine like a stripping sunbeam.

Pernicious religious dogma taking a brittle social control,

'Murika's allure losing its steam,

where anyone and everyone is and shall pay an unpredictable toll.

Murika' was built on lies, deceit, excited religious conquering,

and extermination of indigenous peoples,

at least those who didn't get shuffled into camps.

The history of their erasure redefined à-la-nineteen-eighty-four,

Fact-twisting, accuracy blurring, authenticity squandering,

Genuine Native chronicles in pins and needles,

'Murika's legitimacy in question, extinguishing its still missing lamps,

Forcing a view of its current ugly décor, a real eyesore.

'Murika2022 is a dangerous place,

where hope has been kicked to the ground,

hurting half a population, in the name of religion.

Such is the mighty downfall into inhuman disgrace,

Setting its every new rule as a deleterious prison compound,

Sacrificing every woman, girl, and minority person as a pigeon.

It's a port of call, a port of children-brainwashing,

In suffocating heartbreak, individuality, imagination and freedoms' squashing,

Twisting the adults they may become, all heirs to prayers,

Now all, young and old, living their yesterday's nightmares.

It's a port of birthing, but also uncaring

about all these babies : once out of the womb,

they may go straight to the terminus, the tomb.

If the progeny survive their infancy,

they'll surely live in fear, in a contingency

of meeting projectiles, an existence in urgency

'Cos guns in 'Murika have more rights than folk,

and sadly that ain't even the leader's joke

****************

Examples of direct adaptations from Bablylon 5's intro mentioned above and my poem:

"It was the dawn of the third age of mankind. Ten years after the Earth Minbari war. The Babylon project was dream giving form. Its goal to prevent another war by creating a place where humans and aliens could work out their differences peacefully" 

Turned into the first verse 

 It was the dusk of Human Rights.

Years after gaining progress,

religious dogmas repossessed the field;

Their goal was to delete every single achievement,

to overturn any victory

and enclose humans in old routine ;

In the old, backwards belief system of faith in the heavenly,

whose deity's existence's so uncertain.

It's a port of call....

turned into the ending portion, 13 & 14th verses

and evidently, Lord of the Rings refs are easy to spot, such as

"In the land called 'murika, nothing is sensible..." VS original "the Land of Mordor"...