You can't force a badly worded sentence. 
Just as you can't force a rhyme scheme. 
Or another person to change. 
Who they really are. 
And what they do. 
As square pegs and round holes 
don't occupy the same physical space. 
So is persona non-grata a theme and world-view 
for the unadjusted marginal members 
who have rolled off the Bell Curve. 
Now at either end, 
not looking in — 
but up (no gold, silver, or platinum cards down here) 
Wayyy up! 
Watching the Mighty 
get everything they want. 
Eating their cake the American way. 
And how high their expectations, too! 
Incidentally, while throwing their matches down 
on our foolishly swollen heads. 
All the while telling us that we're going to be "great again"?
When the fact remains: 
that from wintery Jamestown, the Revolution, Mexican War, Civil War, Indian 
and Spanish Wars; Jim Crow, Depression, dust bowl, workers' rights, 
women's rights, civil rights to gerry-mandering votes to economic bubbles 
that burst jobs everywhere else for profit's sake — 
that it was NEVER that "great" to begin with. 
It was HARD and always has been. 
This Country began as an escape of oppression, 
that turned into a stew; 
a mixed melting pot of foreign ingredients, 
stirred together over an open flame. 
Raw at times but always flavorful. 
Our inherent strength.
And yet, a superficial short-sighted weapon of self-loathing. 
For some. 
Now we have hired The Apprentice. 
Which means a "beginner; a learner." 
However this one cannot learn. 
Too busy boasting. 
Too busy repealing. 
Too sensitive at every slight. 
And now we have gone full circle, 
reverse loading the ships, 
watching them sail. 
And maybe now we will all smolder together. 
One Nation, indivisible. 
Seemingly holding our breath, 
while waiting on The Postman 
to bring us our mail.

//John S. Copeman is a contributor to The Periphery.