Colin F. Jones


Celestial beings or spectres or ghosts,
Live in some minds as privileged Hosts,
Yet never transform into something that’s living,
Always supernal, absent, forgiving.
Yet such is the power of imagination
That it reveals in the mind an unblemished nation,
Though built on corruption, the dollar, and the dead,
Such things can be erased from the patriotic head.
For we see what we see as our perception permits,
Blind to the reality our imagery omits.
We believe what is beneficial; what makes us feel good,
Though it is tarnished with sin and mattered with blood.
We erase the opposition, then lend them a hearse,
And write of our heroes in patriotic verse.