We’re addicted to a pain-free existence.
A present-tense consensus
That WE are right and THEY are wrong.
In our amusement-soden state
We cancel cultures that don’t fit our frame.
We’re not to blame for our Father’s sins-
Long dead and buried
Like textbooks in a landfill.
We get our history from Ken Burns.
And star-studded films
With Oscars, well earned.
Lessons are for losers
Who wallow in self pity.
We won’t speak of crimes and trampled lives.
Don’t remind those in power
Of our tarnished, bloody past.
Instead, celebrate our excellence.
Our shining city on the hill.
But Camelot we’re not.
Our history is barely past.
It’s not wrapped in plastic,
Or under glass.
More than facts-
It’s an ugly narrative of evolution.
Endless arguments without absolution.
If we can’t speak of
Where we came from
As part of who we are,
We’ve already accepted our extinction.
Maybe we’ll get a mention
In a future history book.