Acting American



Frankie boy, go get my gun
Here comes those 
pitchfork carrying citizens

They’re so scary angry and uninformed
Holding torches, they plan on 
doing more than burn crosses on our lawn

Frankie boy, load up the old shotgun
Time to send those
trespassing rabble rousers on the run

Lead pellets gonna spray paint the yard
Red is the color
of the devil’s favorite corpse calling card

Frankie boy, tap the trigger on the gun
Time for us to start blending in ...
acting American

Tap the hair trigger on the gun again
Assimilating more metal violence
will make us double blessed American

Frankie boy, you’re my only son
Time to teach you
the wisdom of the smoking gun

See all of those jackrabbits run
Some got unlucky feet,
now they’re dead and done

Frankie boy, cool the gun barrel’s hot metal skin
It’s a frosty good start to blending in ...
acting like real Americans

Frankie boy, I loved you since day one
Go gather the cadavers,
the lightning is soon gonna come

Time for you to have some brothers and sisters galore
So go tell your doctor father and Igor — 
we’re Americans, we ain’t acting like monsters no more!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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Medders Tobechi Avatar
October 16, 2017 at 3:51 PM
I love it. In true Last Poets rhythm. All it needs is so music in the background and it can sell. It is a fave for me because I like the lyrical repetition and the rhyme.
Dietrich Avatar
October 14, 2017 at 5:45 PM
hahah. So tongue in cheek at the ending there. LOVE this!!! And it ain't cryptic, THAT is why I loves it!
Lamoureux Avatar
October 14, 2017 at 8:03 AM
I love your versatility Freddie! Always a treat to read your words.
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