Where People Go To and Dont Come Back

Are there places we go to and won’t be back, There grounding ourselves for having met no lack? It used to be the Lord God’s United States For Africans, who could face big Hotels’ plates And Dish-Washing assembled the Great Dollars For cruising round in shirts with up-turned collars… Much earlier Europe’s Sung United Kingdom For the Blacks London’s clock meant a timed stardom, Replies in British English “Truest Freedom,” No Religious Rubbish hatching Martyrdom… In many ways Honeymooners’ Grand Paris For unending day-dreams, not for seen Barley… On the other side: A concentration camp, As we still have this paradise with no lamp: Where one meets an envelope and turns the stamp: A struggle ceaseless on emerging Slave Champ; Where one walks and just works, until one goes limp: A mind absorbing horrors that make the imp! The finest places we try and we’ve lost track, Turning deflated types with no saving Jack!