Walkway and Political Poetry

Nothing is ever simple, is it?  Fiorella's plans for the backyard walkway are coming to a screeching halt because Fernando doesn't think he can make the final lap. At the same time, Blogger is threatening her with a new set-up that your non-electronic girl is afraid she won't be able to handle.
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Fio, who spouts out rhymes like a water fountain, came across one of her earlier poems and thought you might like to see it again:

    America, hang your head in shame
    Ethic cleansing is the name of the game--
        Clear out the black, the yellow, the brown
        Run gays and their kindred out of town
        Ridicule the halt, the blind, the lame
        And do unto those who sorrow the same
        Jail the actors, the artists, the press
        Silence the women and make them a jest
        Reject the migrants or throw them in jail
        Allow graft and cronyism to prevail
   In short, go after anyone who
   Doesn't talk or think or look like you--
   An automaton of self-fed hate
   Which no force on earth can alleviate