A poem "America" ??was written by a poet from the victimized country. I remember seeing it in a magazine a few years ago. I forgot whether it was Iraq or Afghanistan.

"America" ??- Allen Ginsberg

America, I have given you everything but now I have nothing.

America, today is January 17, 1956, two dollars and twenty-seven cents,

I can't bear it any longer.

America, when will we end this war between humans?

Fuck yourself with your own atomic bomb!

I'm not feeling well, don't mess with me

I don't want to write poetry unless I'm in a good mood,

America, when will you be as cute as an angel? ?

When can you take off your clothes?

When will you be able to look at yourself from the grave?

When will you live up to your countless socialists?

America, why are your libraries in tears?

USA, when can you send eggs to India?

I hate your crazy wishful thinking

When can I go to the supermarket to buy my necessities and feel happy?

In the final analysis, America, only you and I are perfect now, no need to look forward to the next life

You have too many machines. I can't accept it

You make me want to be a saint

There must be some other way to resolve this argument

Burroughs in Tanzel ． I think it's very scheming that he won't come back.

Do you have ulterior motives or are you just playing some ridiculous trick?

Let me get back to the point

I refuse to give up my idea

America, don’t be aggressive, I know what to do

America, then The plum blossoms are withering

I have not read newspapers for months, and every day someone is tried for murder

America, I have deep sympathy for the members of the World Workers Organization

I smoked pot every chance I got

I sat in the house and stared all day long Rose in the Closet

When I go to Chinatown I always get very drunk. But never falls to the ground.

I believe I will be in trouble

You must have seen me reading Marx

My psychiatrist believes there is nothing wrong with me

I feel the endless excitement of the universe with mysterious hallucinations

United States. I haven't told you yet how you treated Uncle Magus after he came back from Russia

I'm talking to you.

Do you want Time magazine to control your emotional privacy?

Time magazine fascinates me

I read it every week

The cover always glares at me, every time I quietly Walking past the candy shop on the corner

I read it in the basement of the Burke Library

It always tells me what a sense of responsibility is: businessmen are serious and shrewd

Film producers are very pragmatic and everyone is serious except me.

I suddenly felt that I was America

I muttered to myself again.

Asia is rising up against me,

I have received no benefit from any Chinese.

I'd better think long-term about my country's resources

My country's resources include two rolls of marijuana, millions of penises, and unpublished literary works shipped by jet at a rate of one an hour. Fourteen hundred miles and twenty-five thousand mental hospitals

I haven’t mentioned my prisons and the millions of suffering people

They live in my flower pots Here, under the light of five hundred suns,

I abolished the brothels in France, and Danzier will be next

My ambition is to be president, although I am Catholics

America, you are so stupid, how can I write a sacred prayer for you

I will still write like Henry Ford, my lines will be like His cars all belong to him even though they are of different genders

America, I will sell you verses for 2,500 yuan each, which is 500 yuan less than what you bought before,

America, free labor leader Tom Money!

The United States, rescue those in Spain who are loyal to the Communist Party and the government!

America, Sacco and Fan Ze must not die!

America, I was one of those children imprisoned in Scottsboro

America, when I was seven years old, my mother took me to join the Communist Party branch They sold us a lot of edamame tickets. Everyone could speak freely for five cents a ticket. Everyone was as lovely as an angel. Everyone had deep feelings for the workers. Everything was so sincere that it made you feel that nothing could be more important than this party. good! In 1935 Scott Neal was a wonderful good old man and a real responsible and sensible man. Mother Brewer made me cry. I once saw the communist speaker Isaac Ahm. Very approachable, probably everyone is a spy!

America, you don’t really want to fight

America, it’s all the fault of those nasty Russians

Are they the Russians or the Chinese? It's them Russians!

Russia is going to eat us alive, the Russian authorities are crazy, the Russians are going to steal all our cars from the garage

She wants to steal Chicago, she needs A red Reader's Digest, she's going to move our car factories to Siberia and rule our gas stations with her huge bureaucratic machine

That's not good. Alas, if Russia wants to force the Indians to learn to read, she needs able-bodied niggers.

Aha, she's going to force us all to work sixteen hours a day. Woohoo, help!

America, all this is not a joke

America, this is the impression I get when watching TV

Meituan, tell me about this Is it all true?

It seems I'd better go and do my job.

I really don’t want to join the army and I don’t want to turn a machine in a precision parts factory. I am short-sighted and mentally ill. How can I escape?

U.S.A., forgive me for my weird remarks. I've done my best for you.

Berkeley, January 17, 1956

This should be the poem you are looking for, right? Hope it will be adopted.