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The Homes of America
by Felicity Sherazz

The awful homes of America!
     How terrible they yawn,
Each with a single yearling tree
     Amidst a standard lawn!
One deer across the green may flee
     From SUVs and yapping dogs.
But still oppression chokes me
     like the smell of a thousand hogs.

The bland homes of America!
      Through their great rooms by night:
How many different screens blare
     With contant noise and light!
There pizza, Pop-Tarts and trash
     Pile on the kitchen island --
Unless constant outlays of cash
     Keep the situation in hand.

The blessèd homes of America!
     Multiple crosses on the wall
To prove one's holiness
     To lover, children, and all.
Actions mean nothing when
     There are goods to display;
Like all things, buy again,
     And again -- what the hey.

The McMansions of America!
     By millions on her fill dirt,
In the desert, in the suburbs,
     On the sands, they cause hurt
As families overreach and overspend.
     From the ad world's image
They simply cannot bend
     Even when finances hemm'rage.

The underwater homes of America!
     Long, long, over-priced!
May reality sink in before
     Another bubble -- another heist!
And may value instead be found
     In things not bought,
Where daily reporters do not hound,
     "What hath the market wrought?"