Americas Nature
by MrDaMan
Virgil R. Hall II (Randy)

Drop a beat, skip a beat, tap, tap, thrum.
It’s the rumble of a nation, of a people,
with an addiction, to all that jazz,
marching to a different drum.

The immigrant offspring of an old world
muffled by civilized resistance to instinct.
The animal heart in man, dancing aggressive,
without getting away from, but getting to it.

America the wild mother, embracing wild children.
Encouraging the baring of teeth and the howling
of taking. Speaking with vistas of uncharted wilderness,
"You can be free here!" be natural, be men, and thrive.

Time is a fickle perspective, history can only be imagined.
What once was felt, feared and overcome, bleeds into
the rich soil of culture, composted mulch, blended
blood and toil, in the garden of patriots in a new world.

Some men were here already, some volunteered and others
were forced by hook and chain. Civilized nature can be
barbarous, cruel and unforgiving. America didn’t give
a damn, she called and they came… They came in droves.

The old world cried "FOUL!", uncivilized ungracious
bastards, mixed blood mongrel peasants and everyone a
king. Blood and sweat flew in every direction before and
after they tried to impose their feudal will. Heathens!

Heathen indeed! America bared her teeth and growled
with men that could shred flesh with canine agility.
The nature of freedom has its costs, threaten America
at peril, she picks her teeth with the bones of enemies.

"Civilized", now there’s a concept as rich as nature
itself. Not totally abandoned but branded with liberty.
America tore out its soul and drowned slavery with blood.
Americas skeleton bears homogenous skin… so be it.

America found competing barbarians in the forests,
in the mountains and in the plains. She swallowed them
and absorbed their trail of tears, their might, their hate and
embraced them as her own. Bitter but great medicine.

Time again, has its own history, it can be told as a dream
but it can’t be witnessed but only once. The beast that
roars from the heart of envy, of ambition, of war when
unleashed has an accounting in blood and borders.

Americas southern sister, Mexico a grand dame
with a penchant for sibling rivalry, quarreled over fate.
There is no love lost, but amour is found across borders,
across cultures, across town, muy bonita quibbling sister.

Despite the pains of love and loss, the west was won
by American creed. In pursuit of happiness, by gold, land
or rail, attuned to blood and sweat, by taking or leaving.
America by God, by people, by gun it’s love it or leave it.

The twentieth century rained blood and money, the rich
and the poor found America a lustful wench, ripened
breasts holding a torch as a lighthouse promising
a storm of epic proportions. America did not disappoint.

It is in the nature of man to love this wily bitch, she’s an
experienced lover, a mother that produces chaotic sanity.
Every man a king and every woman a queen within
the reach of blood and sweat, the spoils of ambition.

The old world would war in imperialist endeavor to
subjugate the mass’s under one king. America laughed
and bloodied her hands spreading their entrails across
Europe. And cooked the Asian goose with a nuclear egg.

Arrogant? Naaaa just zealous of her nature. And her nature
is freedom, blood, sweat, toil and trouble. The pursuit of
happiness is not found in the centralized feudalism of
elitist kings, of intellectual utopian civilized balderdash.

America’s a civilized barbarian and thrives on the Hell
that comes through the gates of chaos. Bring it!
When America dies, it will be by her own hand.
By men without balls and women who are dicks.

That’s just the nature of things.

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