Read a sample

Enjoy a poem from the book, Amber Buttefly

Manufactured America

Once beautiful,

Now dead,

That golden country.

Once roamed of buffalo

And windswept breezes

With swollen rivers

That reflected stars.

That pure land,


Touched by people who respected earth,

True hearts in America.

Whose beauty wrapped by nature,

And valleys burst with green,

Oh, forests of America.

Soil rich with untapped gold,

Where no metal pipes ravaged,

Or factories rose,

That lost America.

Its skin is peeled,

And surface blisters,

Wrought by cars with modern engines,


Does go America.

Whose beaches strew with plastic

And tarp umbrellas park in sand,

This new,

dead America.

Surface minds lay tar on beauty,

Grasses stripped and trees cut down,

Picket fences outline property,

And a nation’s girth redrawn,

Remake America.

That nameless country,

That golden country,

Now cut and spliced,

Priced and sliced,

To commercial land for stores,

And homes,


no longer looks like that old America.

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