This is just a short little concise poem that shouldn’t require any real explanation for the average reader, I should think – that is – if they have been paying the slightest bit of attention over the past couple of decades. I always used to write with the assumption that my average reader would be somewhat intelligent enough to not require every little assertion of statement followed by paragraphs of proof, but as the years passed, well… You already know where I’m going with this.

I could have made this longer and more in depth and detailed, but I didn’t want the end product to sound beyond tedious by pointing to the Democrat Party Communists and RINOs to be the source of the problem, as the simple word “liberal” suffices, again for anyone who understands the evolution of liberalism into illiberal communism in America.

This is just a short way of saying that multiculturalism and diversity have essentially destroyed America. We may not be physically destroyed – not yet anyway – but the America I was raised in and found so fascinating and wonderful simply will never return, not for many long decades, if ever – and not until we burn this current system to the ground and start anew from the chaos and ashes, in my humble opinion.

There are strange things done ‘neath the liberal sun By the folks who preach the blend; The city streets have their bitter feats That chill you to the end. The neon lights have seen sad sights, But the saddest they ever did view Was the night in the sprawl of the urban brawl When the old ways broke in two.

Now the dreamers came with their grand old plan, From the halls of ivory tower, To mix the blood of every flood And share the equal power. They said, “We’ll weave a tapestry grand, No borders, no creed, no kin; All races blend in a merry mend – Let the great experiment begin!“

But the neighborhoods cracked like Arctic ice When the strangers poured on in; The old stock stared, the newcomers glared, And the trust grew mighty thin. No common tongue, no shared old song, Just enclaves sharp and tall; The schools turned dumb, the kids went numb, And the playgrounds hit the wall.

They dumbed the books to spare the feelings Of the tribes from far away; No Shakespeare bold, no history told Lest offense should cloud the day. The standards fell like Yukon snow In a wild and blinding storm; The bright young minds lost their cutting grinds, And mediocrity became the norm.

The coffers groaned ‘neath the heavy load Of the hordes that crossed the gate; Welfare lines grew a mile in time, And the debts piled high as fate. The workers toiled while the newcomers spoiled On the fruits they didn’t sow; The future bleak, the treasury weak – Bankrupt, and the end too slow.

The civic squares, once proud and fair, Turned sewers of despair and strife; Knives flashed bright in the dead of night, And fear became the life. No-go zones where the old laws groaned, And the gangs held savage sway; The blood ran red where the dreamers said All cultures blend in play.

Now tribes retreat to their ancient beat, The only shield they know; Identity’s wall ‘gainst the rising squall Where the melting pot won’t flow. The kinfolk cling to their flag and ring, Defending hearth and blood; For when the lie of the blend runs dry, There’s nought but tribal flood.

‘Twas a gentle dream, or so it seemed, This incompassionate, vile scheme; But it cracked the core, divided more, And poisoned the nation’s stream. There are strange things done ‘neath the liberal sun By the men who moil for gold — Of power and praise in utopian days – But the tale is bitter cold.

The neon lights have seen sad sights, But the saddest they ever did see Was the land once grand, now a fractured band, In the name of power and of diversity.

January 10, 2026

Justin O. Smith ~ Author

~ the Author ~
Justin O. Smith Has Lived in Tennessee Off and on Most of His Adult Life, and Graduated From Middle Tennessee State University in 1980, With a B.S. And a Double Major in International Relations and Cultural Geography – Minors in Military Science and English, for What Its Worth. His Real Education Started From That Point on. Smith Is a Frequent Contributor to the Family of Kettle Moraine Publications.