The dream is dead, since the sixties
Turned to the seventies, nice and sleazy
Endless wars processed the hippies and pixies
Economic vandals left a peace uneasy

Was it in our name, the forever fight for peace?
Did we ever question what’s going on here?
The grabs for land then returned for lease
The struggle for survival, a punishment severe

Can the decks be cleared with genocide?
The algorithms are running the numbers
There’s no longer a place to hide
And we’re left holding only clunkers

Sign away our lives with disappearing ink
Fingers crossed and handshakes informal
Accustomed to shit we no longer smell the stink
This is the new normal – abnormal

Submitted to Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – Uneasy, Weekend Writing Prompt #378 – Severe (though not 18 words – I always forget that there’s a word limit in Sammi’s prompts!), Monday Poetry Prompt: Abnormal and Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – Clunkers. This could also be submitted to dVerse – stormy weather but I already submitted another poem to that.