101. The Bad times

The decade ran out.
So did the spirit.
“No longer are good times here.”
The bands with cash registers stopped playing
No one drank their favorite drink
Because people stopped paying.
The money stopped flowing.
A crash in the market
Sent people flying
Out of Wall Street windows.
Main Street was filled with desperate men
Who wore rags and starved in the streets.
Long dreary years came though.
Money disappeared.
No one worked.
No one bought
While merchandise collected dust on the shelves.
Hopelessly long bread-lines.
Mass migrations to California.
In hope of getting a job and finding their gold.
All they found were sepia colored,
Black and white afternoons
Of restlessly wandering
Wondering when things will get better.
But nothing did.
The army held the White House
Demanding their pay.
Hoover got the blame
When they built his shacks.
People used his flags.

96. American Expansion

America packed up its wagon

To head out on the trail toward California

For gold.

The Mormons moved west under the guidance of their prophet

For God.

Adventurers went out to explore

For Glory.

The three G’s that drove men’s souls and spirits for years.

Gold, God, Glory.

Moving them across the expanse of prairie.

Uncle Sam drew a line across the continent.

“You can have all this land over here” he said, “and we will take the rest.”

But then he changed its mind.

“We’ll take this from you as well.”

The land shrank quickly

As the new nation gobbled it up

For progress.

They pushed,

Breaking treaties,

Causing tears,

Making new treaties,

Breaking them,

Causing more tears.

Blood from the thousand nations

Ran down mountains,

Through plains,

Mingling with tears and sweat

From thousands of miles of migration.

The white man settled the nomads,

Straightened the land with rails,

Fenced it in,

Claiming it as their own.

Those that didn’t adapt

Met their end

In war or captivity.