just read (red) this poem
God Bless America
Here they go again,
The Yanks in their armoured parade
Chanting their ballads of joy
As they gallop across the big world
Praising America's God.
The gutters are clogged with the dead
The ones who couldn't join in
The others refusing to sing
The ones who are losing their voice
The ones who've forgotten the tune.
The riders have whips which cut.
Your head rolls onto the sand
Your head is a pool in the dirt
Your head is a stain in the dust
Your eyes have gone out and your nose
Sniffs only the pong of the dead
And all the dead air is alive
With the smell of America's God.
(c) Harold Pinter January 2003
Harold Pinter is a celebrated British playwright and Nobel laureate in Literature for 2005.
His masterpiece include "The Birthday Party" and "The caretaker".
Articles on his Nobel lecture titled Art, Truth & Politics
the complete lecture
see the video