Poetry for the Unforgiven

Power Blind

I received your message on the tube yesterday;

same old deceptive devices.

I can’t pretend I have the vision of Charles Dickens;

But, I can see what he saw

the depravity of your speech and attitude,

The Power Blind Madness of your mind,

I see it on the TV and Newspaper.

I see it in the eyes and words of Sean Hannity.

You have not deceived me;

you have deceived you . . .

Sins of Our Leaders

I lie dreaming of days passed,

life’s backwater.

The Sins of Our Leaders,

pounding my brain.

Clocks are ticking backward,

hourglass sand is falling upward

Tyrant’s heart pumps,

ice water backwards.

His cold breath spews,

lies like a disease.

Festering into mortals,

bleeding hearts.

Fallujah’s fate is,

a nightmare.

Senator McCain didn’t you know,

there were children in there

Their severed limbs got passed you;

Somehow.

Mothers had rain,

pouring from their eyes.

An estuary of days,

streaming days to years.

We are fruits of the same tree;

with roots through eons.

There is a rotten liquid,

pouring from leaders mouths.

Greed brought those towers down;

and truth sets you free; not war.

A Paradox (Infinite Puzzles)

I was moving out on the cosmic plane.

When my eyes were met by the elders,

of the orbicular conduit.

Soldiers were marching inward to,

battle the incomprehensible.

The gift was something, knowledge,

could not touch it.

Stories were told of forgotten time,

when hordes traversed the cosmos;

in search of tangible reality.

The sovereign sat idly by,

while fools sought invalidity.

The hordes expedited unearthly terrain;

they left a Face Monument;

to mark their passing.

We were left with riddles,

to fathom the mystery.

Leaving me here, to wonder . . .

The Burn

Come take me for a ride

I’ve been there before,

by that dark riverside

Carry me to that open door

Change my head, change my ways

Got no-one else to turn to

Haven’t had sleep for days

Everywhere I turn I see you

Are you ready for the burn

Ready for the requiem turn

Are you ready for the burn

You go to school but never learn

There’s something up ahead

cars are moving slow

lights are turning red

tell me which way to go

by that dark riverside

over by the open door

There’s another world inside

let’s see what’s in store

Are you ready for the burn

Ready for the slow moving dirge

Are you ready for the burn

Sliding to where the world’s merge

Your world is dead, times are closed

Remember what you said

Remember how I imposed

I’ve been screaming by the dark riverside

I lay there dreaming

Thinking I can hide

Are you ready for the burn

Ready and all alone

Are you ready for the burn

Recovering from the stone

You drove me crazy

you damned screwed up harlot

Don’t tell me I’m your bay-bee

screaming down in the parking lot

The world outside is dreaming

Dreaming of a better day

outside my window

sunlight streaming

Oh, bring on the day bay-bay

Are you ready for the burn

You crazy old witch

You thought you’d make me squirm

You broken down old winch

Beginning (Transformation)

I am falling;

I am moving toward a new beginning.

My spirit grows with the movement;

aloft yet descending into illumination.

My wings ready,

my eyes searching,

my breath is full.

My awakening incomplete;

becoming a new being,

of a higher order.

My life ending and beginning,

all is new.

Dawn of Summer

Dawn of Summer Crashing Down.

Heavy Shadows Falling Forward.

I look into the Clouds and see;

I’m borderline Schizophrenic.

My Head is in Split Direction.

At least the Stars still Shine,

And,

Freaking’ Far-out Girls really Rock.

Freedom Speaks in Whispers,

Afraid for Someone to Notice;

A Fragile Misconception.

Dreams that spill over into the Night,

in Repercussion . . .

Fire Eyes

What will you do when you see me?

Run to another hiding place?

When you see my Fire Eyes?

Stop Dead; Still?

You betrayed, now it’s time.

Will you see it,

Will you feel it.

The Storm passes slowly.

So Grim; the Reaper.

He rides on the cold wind.

Sharp blade makes, Sharp note,

only in the mind.

Will it transmit; Telepathy?

Transmit; Desire?

Darkness pervades.

Heart beats; hoof beats

Together.

Zombies (Changes)

I’ve seen so many changes

in this course I’ve traveled.

It’s a wonder I’m still alive.

I can’t believe all the Zombie

faces I encounter it seems people

will believe anything but the truth.

I’m older and still running strong.

I awaken to the sound of rushing water.

Must be the dreams I store for future reference.

I walk the streets and see darkened

faces with hollow empty eyes.

Blind to the events passing before them.

They seek not the wisdom of the ages,

but the spatter of the evening news echoes

through their meaningless conversations

of superior dominance and pride.

Pride, oh pride the deadliest of all

the deadly sins.

Oh yes, Zombies; Zombies indeed

Enjoy the Fascism

We’ve seen them.

The “Old Glory” wavers.

Singing Democracy . . .

They’ve (we’ve) forgotten;

Democracy is for all;

Not just the Oil tycoons.

Liberata

I know she wanted me,

that first day.

I saw her exposed breasts,

and smelled her sweet scent.

It was stimulating, insidiously arousing.

My passion flared;

a sensation, like a soft whisper.

A wisp of smoke came to mingle . . .

Nothing happened, the smoke faded.

Memory keeps its aroma,

in the deep well of compassion.

(Malonde)

Your touch and kiss have been with me since.

The connection was right back then,

but now another woman is there;

to cool your fiery hands.

I can only watch from afar.

I want the other woman to be happy;

to know I was right about you.

We should have taken our wings,

and flown to a far distant world . . .

Next time I will follow my heart.

The Power That Makes Them Go

People don’t really care about.

What they don’t really know.

Children get slaughtered; they call it “God’s will”.

Then choke on water washing down pills.

The status quo drives Mercedes and BMWs;

while their armies rape countries for oil.

The power that makes them go;

they go to Church and pray for victory.

Then drive home in their Mercedes S.U.V.

Not really caring about;

what they don’t really know.

“Father forgive them, they know not what they do”

Christ-(while being crucified)

Speak Out Against the Madness

Fathers who teach their children freedom and justice come from War;

and tell them the future is ours to live and grow to prosperity.

Shred the truth with every word; the forked tongues of death

Creating disparity for the masses serving the wealthy

in conducive to the growth of the children (the future).

Shadowing the future with false and empty promises.

Murdering all those who oppose the oppression.

“(Do we) find the cost of freedom, buried in the ground. Mother earth will swallow you, lay your body down. Find the cost of freedom, buried in the ground”

-Crosby Stills Nash & Young

Vantage Point

Awakening on the dust of a distant world;

Confronted by the ghosts of a,

long dead civilization.

Standing on the Vantage Point of,

ethereal reality.

I could see vast armies,

in mortal conflict.

A voice from within, or

was it reaching within;

within the realms of,

orbicular motion.

The spinning wheels of cerebral,

madness.

Lying in the vestige of what is to come.

Beyond the reach of,

normal comprehension.

The awakening from human dormancy.

Waiting to arise, something vital?

A source of strength, a lesson,

on reality.

My thoughts are my thoughts.

I cannot expect anyone to understand;

you are the enemy, one who

destroys.

Your beauty is a vulgar bloodbath;

while brain-dead observers give their approval.

I stand.

Drowning in a deluge, of consciousness . . .

The Way Shadows Fall

Sifting through the broken,

pieces of yesterday;

trying to put the puzzle,

back together.

So, what the hell is integrity,

anyway?

Lifting up his separate fibers,

of my heart;

trying to weave it,

back together.

Oh, what the hell

is love anyway?

Sometimes, I wish my heart,

was made of stone,

but then I’d be like you.

So, what the hell is compassion,

anyway?

The world keeps turning,

’round and down;

holding me down;

keeping me from,

the secret of life.

Oh, what the hell,

is truth; anyway?

Just anyone’s interpretation,

of how everything should be.

Oh, my soul is ablaze,

my heart is afire.

Your cold heart burns me;

to the depth of my being.

That’s the way Shadows fall.

So, what the hell is substance, anyway?

You’re going to burn your witches;

when your time is awry, and

if I could tell you anything at all,

I would say:

“Stop!” Don’t tell me how to feel.

So, what the hell is intelligence,

anyway?

You’re going to believe;

just what you believe,

then justify it all.

So, what the hell is justice;

anyway . . . ?

Love’s Lament (Fields of Blind Foolery)

Lying to waste the,

great intentions.

The bubble that bursts,

in the eye of compassion,

lying bleeding,

in the dark.

To care is to risk,

to risk is to endanger.

The ripped soul bleeds,

with lingering pain,

the banished heart is denied;

thrice . . .

Promises are to be broken,

in the heat of the night.

Once the product is bought;

the purchaser lends,

itself to the shadows.

The universe is expanding,

moving away from us.

We are living in a, bubble of atmosphere.

An island moving through, infinite blackness;

remembering a flat, world of dragons.

We are not alone!

The ostrich who, buries its head,

shields no danger.

We are open to the mystery, but are blind to it.

Let’s awaken to the,

unknown . . .

There is mystery here . . .

Ancient Highway

Take me down that ancient highway;

that covers thousands of miles,

only to intersect with another.

Who can reason why, humans;

go back and forth to go nowhere?

Take me to that ancient highway.

I’m told it’s not of this world,

but some place far, far away.

Maybe my dreams aren’t so dim;

Maybe light not only comes from the sun;

Maybe on that ancient highway;

I’ll make my way to the stars, and

escape the nuclear war, and

all the deception, and degradation,

here on Earth?

I see a billion lights, not one the sun.

Maybe on that ancient highway;

where you say I died, only to be,

born again, but this is not the

life I’d chosen?

They say, in a few short years;

there’ll be a hot, smoky trail to Mars.

Maybe up there where the air blows,

thin, and cold I’ll find peace, and

speak to the voices of wisdom?

On the edge of that ancient highway;

where my today’s will meet my, eternity.

My yesterdays will not be forgotten;

for time is a flowing river, and it;

will carry my memories onto that, ancient highway,

Revolution in Your Eyes

Wake up!

Open up your eyes!

Get out!

Let the fire inside you rise!

Look around!

Tell me what you see!

Is it what you want?

Do you really think that you are free?

Listen!

Tell me what you hear!

What the Newsman is saying;

is it what you fear?

You can walk away from truth.

Like a fire it burns

you can run away and forget

until it returns!

There’s revolution in your soul.

I see it in your eyes.

Reach out your hand;

Cry out and let us know you’re alive

In A Wave of Passion

There is a time forgotten;

when wisdom reigned supreme.

I was leader of a proud people,

when a cloud passed over my time,

and I was gone. They mummified my remains,

and word was sent out,

to our States and Provinces.

The fruits of my works

spread forth through the millennia.

You hear it in the songs and stories of the young.

The heart races as,

wisdom of the age’s flows through.

The mind will awaken,

with new challenge,

and the stars will draw nearer.

The Earth will fade,

into the distance,

like a grain of sand;

drawn by the sea.

My spirit will be reborn,

and my name will live again.

Those of knowledge will echo it,

through the corridors of time,

till time is no more.

Crowded Highway (to Palestine)

At twilight,

Dismal spirits

Parade on Death’s

crowded highway

revenant eyes witness

Innocent life

spirited away

in a cold dark alley

Heavy shards

of broken Dreams

Lie in heaps

on the ground

Conformity and Rebellion

What the hell am I doing here?

This place I do not belong.

The walls are dank, and

windows shed little light.

I will not conform to the,

atrocities before me.

Surely, Rebellion will pave,

a path through this maze.

My mother tried to comfort,

with soft lies that revealed,

themselves the moment I set,

foot on treacherous ground.

Logic surely tells us that lies

are told only for the benefit,

of the teller.

So, my steps are cautious through,

narrow, dark passageways when,

dark figures emerge from the shadows.

Hmmm; when I enter into the light I,

may say; what the hell am I doing here?”

Hollow Destiny

The Spirit abounds

where numbers are to be met.

The secret revealed.

By one who came before;

Clouds pervade the darkness,

and destiny arises;

from the dust of evermore.

The secret is solemn;

it frightens the innermost,

depths of the soul.

The sanctuary,

sanctions the heart,

and reveals the kindness,

hidden there.

Evil shutter in disbelief.

The Spirit rises up;

Becomes part of the whole.

The vision is,

yet incomplete.

The phantom rides his steed;

beneath a hollow moon.

Shadows arise from the ground.

Cold rushes;

still;

As silence reclaims

the night . . .

The Unknown Zone

Here we are in the unknown zone.

The place that taught me to weep and moan.

The light was cold for a message of old

She brings the paper to the waif-er while the

hallway was filled with madness.

Characterize the homogenized and get vaporized by

politician’s wasted words.

The headline news, a diatribe.

Oh the war, had made a score, but no one was listening.

There was a hit T.V. movie no one had seen ’cept through an advertiser, just an appetizer.

The show sucked and a tornado blew down the tower.

How many more will be lost?

Jessica made the scene with a Monk and a Dean. She showed her ass with

so much class. She showed ’em all she could raise the spirits

but could not raise the dead and dispatched the reason only yesterday.

Several stars in limo cars lit a candle on Mars then saw the face looking on.

The server was fortuned and mad with tongue spitting fire.

My head was filled with “Dead” logic.

Gratefully opposed to the recent discovery.

Bleeding from my fingertips bent and ripped a side split from reality.

Unto us is born a child forlorn, a mystical freak, a future geek of the airwaves.

Soldiers march their way, while shadow dogs slip away into dark recesses

and young blood pools up.

Spiders congregate in walls of consolidation.

Liberals live on slogans made, while conserves serve themselves on the spoils.

Outside the pale blue sky awaits a reason, while soldiers from a star wait to salvage reason.

My mind crinkles in the massive grave of desire, my mouth spits fornications into the mire, and the damsel is acquitted.

Leverage was achieved by mounting her.

Lightning strikes to my delight and still my head is famished.

Humping to our delight, she said orgasms had no meaning.

For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge

For crimes that defy all logic and decency;

Unlawful activity that leads to the destruction of Nations;

Carnal decadence that leaves children mutilated;

Knowledge of these activities but paid to look away;

you share the guilt of transgression

Oh you of corrupted authority for this,

Undermines the future of those yet unborn . . .

The Rage Raves On

There is a fire in my soul

Flames rising, out of control.

The rage raves on;

and the Trials go on.

A mother brings a baby to her breast;

another on the way, you know the rest.

Courage and promise fall from your lips;

but your eyes reveal a coward’s ship.

The killing fields reek with blood;

Mixed with stench in the mud.

Killing and killing by the score.

Kill today, kill tomorrow, only to kill some more.

The Spirit of Human destiny awaits

The Children turn their backs on their fates.

Open your eyes to see the rising Sun.

Then closed them to study the dream only just begun

Old Man Young

I was a young man, barely seventeen

Still fresh in my dreams

No-one over thirty could I trust

Then I heard “After the Gold Rush”

Here was a man who could spit fire and play guitar

And Joni Mitchell made him a star

Hey “Old man” you’re “Forever Young”

Even after all the songs you’d sung

Yeah; I remember the “Four Way Street”

In Ohio when Nixon and “Tin Soldiers” blew the heat

The people cried Peace! In addition, you said: “Teach the Children”

Yeah; I remember that was you and C.S.N.

That was such a long time ago

But your “Heart of Gold” is still in Ohio

’cause I just heard “Living with War” and the people cry

With their hands raised high

They cry and won’t be denied nor relent

’cause you said in a song “Impeach the President”

You talk about this and that of all the war crimes

Time to take a look around to the sign of the times

You know it’s never too late

’cause it’s the hand of fate

I’m in awe of the songs you’ve sung

And I’ll be damned if you’re not “Forever Young”

Witch Hunts

I do not know you, yet,

you expect me to believe you,

Your “War on Terror” McCarthy’s war,

on Communism

“The Witch Hunts” are all repeats of,

Historic Elitism.

I do not want you, I do not need you.

Fade back into the darkness where,

you reside . . .

Your master waits.

Flagrant Desire

Though I am down in sorrow,

a river of hope brings me,

my dreams, and

I’ll be alright come tomorrow;

as I lie down in the cold,

and wet streams.

In the distance, I had seen,

a witch, alive for more,

than a thousand years,

and she would shed not one tear

for the forsaken, and

hungry children.

I felt their flagrant cries;

tearing at my soul,

sailing on the wind.

However, everyone, I mean,

everyone dies. A change,

must come for all or Earth,

will cease to be.

Learn to hear the call,

of the rightful and truly free.

Woes have fallen upon,

the Earth. Touch her,

feel the beating of her heart.

She is dying, stricken with a dearth.

Therefore, I must lie down in these,

cold, cold waters.

Cover me in the wetness

of a dream.

Power is within me . . .”

Sickness in Our Midst

Gallivanting around the globe like a demented god-king;

Extracting every ounce of power from your position;

Obumbrating the vision of the nation;

Ranting about godliness while killing innocents;

Grabbing barrels of oil for the god Halliburton;

Eluding the public by praising God for your deeds;

Who do you think you are?

Babbling about victories unachieved;

Umbrageous delusions of grandeur,

Shamming the faithful to their deaths

Halliburton must have paid you well for War-Mongering.

May all the dead of Iraq and Afghanistan haunt you for the rest of your life and forever there after!

A view of American Hypocrisy

oh, how haughty thou hast become;

“an ode to a louse” I would say;

mirror thyself in the light;

for thou hast fallen into darkness;

thine leaders have elevated themselves,

to Theocracy.

woe be unto the people of Earth;

for they are themselves a monster.

oh, ye hypocrites, seeketh a sign?

I show ye the mirror . . .

Exodus Del Terra

I saw you looking,

through the portals,

of the universe.

There are secrets,

you refuse to reveal

That infinite blackness,

hides knowledge.

The human repose;

a paradox.

Preachers say there is

nothing there.

Scientists speculate;

But, you with your,

sprite wisdom know.

You have ventured,

through space . . .

Share with me,

the knowledge . . .

The spirit of wonder

So that I can,

be complete . . .

Blue Sky

I seem to remember

the sky being blue

though that was long ago.

Large raindrops splat on my

windshield this morning and

a few days ago it was snow.

People seem to love the snow

and it is beautiful, but it just

reminds me of the desolation of love.

The dreary sky is the Sun’s abandon.

My thoughts are of spring and

summer when the Sun and warmth

are abundant like pure love.

The radiance welcomes

new life

The Library (Pyramid)

The

Library

a place where

worlds merge, people

of all ages and lifestyles

converge. Here you can travel and

remain here. You can go to other planets

and explore or you can reach inside yourself and

see yourself for the first time and be reborn to a new self

Our Island Earth

The Earth is an island,

amidst a vast black sea.

A pale blue dot to those,

venturing from the outside.

Looking back from the moon,

it looks like a marble suspended,

affront a dark backdrop.

She is and always will be our home.

She has sustained us,

millennia after millennia.

Yet our respect is shallow.

The wealthy exploit her.

Power hungry mad warmongers;

rip her and tear her to her brink;

others watch and wonder how . . . ?

" . . . Look what they’ve done to the Earth

look what they’ve done to our fair Sister

They’ve ravaged, plundered, ripped her and bit her

Stabbed her with knives in the side of the dawn

and dragged her down . . . ”

Jim Morrison

Miracles (to Gandhi Martin Luther King Jr. and John Lennon)

You may say that, with my lack of religion,

I would not believe in; Miracles . . .

‘Au Contraire Mon Ami’

Existence and life itself, is a mystery.

Every breath and every; heartbeat is a gift.

We are and everything is, a miracle.

So, if you have heard that; I have died do not, mourn;

It will only, means that I have traveled; to a greater existence;

I do not fear death; it will happen, and yes;

the time is yet unknown . . .

It is because of the unknown; that I am compelled to,

speak, and give appreciation, to those of understanding.

For you are miracles, your actions are as,

mysterious as life. I have seen so many march into,

the darkness of hatred, and the contrast is clear . . .

May the Spirit of Peace; Guide you to the World beyond;

for it is there life is fulfilled.

In the Company of Shadows

I believe my paranoia is trying to tell me something;

yes, I do . . .

These Shadows that scurry in, out, and through.

Hiding in dark recesses, there is one now.

He is running across the floor trying to get in

some how.

They visit me while I am sleeping.

You’d call it a nightmare, here for my reaping.

But I think he’s here to warn me

Yes I do . . .

You might say it’s crazy and untrue.

I say it is better than the horseshit;

you have been getting on the News.

I talked to the Traveler; he said. “There’s more to,

this picture; and the needle’s in the red.

Your friends traded Shadows for Visions.

Think now before you make decisions.

Something dear’s been lost but there is a road ahead.

And, the things you see are not just in your head.

A Conspiracy in Three Parts (part 1)

Conspiracy: an evil, unlawful, or serendipitous plan formulated in secret by two or more persons; plot

Understanding the word “Conspiracy” helps us understand the scope and depth of how we are deceived. We live in a complicated world with complicated ideals. Joining groups is something I generally stay away from because belief systems within each of us are different. Every group has a leader. Oftentimes leaders take advantage of the fact that the members of the group are so willing to please. Leaders may; depending on their honesty, convince members to go against their beliefs for “causes” that arise. They may try to convince then by saying that this would be temporary. Temporary, as History suggests could mean; “only a few generations. The “911 Commission” has stated that the WTC attack was not a conspiracy. This attack was reported as being accomplished by 19 individuals belonging to a group known as “Al Qaeda”. Now go back to the definition of “Conspiracy” Now I have often said “The U.S. Should never have formed the “Al Qaeda” it’s causing too many problems.

A Conspiracy in three parts (part 2)

Theory: a coherent group of general propositions used as principles of explanation of phenomena.

It is our right as individuals to form our own theories to endeavor to understand events and natural phenomena.

This is what makes us unique as individuals. For leaders to enforce opinion, belief, or theory and impose them on any society is a prelude to slavery. “Do not allow anyone to do for you that which you can do for yourself.” Abraham Lincoln In other words do not allow anyone to do your thinking for you.

A Conspiracy in Three Parts (part 3)

Conspiracy Theory: a theory that explains an event as being result of a plot by a covert group or organization, a belief that a particular event was caused by such a group

The statement that the events of 911 were not brought about by a conspiracy is a lie. The very essence of its appearance in history stinks of something rotten just outside our window. The 911 event occurred a significant amount of time ago. Yet it is burned into conscious mind making it appear to be a more recent event. Our psyche is bombarded by The News and by politicians on a daily basis. A scripture bares significance; “take heed that no-one deceive you for many shall come in my name.” And let us not forget

the immortal words of George Harrison: “Think for yourself because I might not be here for you.” Thank you and May fortune follow you.

The Lost Realm

I stood and looked,

to the middle

through to the other side.

Oh, that could not

be me standing,

looking back. He

moves when I move,

talks when I talk.

There is no mirror;

nothing to reflect.

It must be a vision;

of the lost realm.

Where spirits become;

what they see.

I read the signs,

and, become entranced,

mesmerized . . .

I must climb to,

the clouds then to,

the stars, and

float back to the ground;

The answer lies,

here and there . . .

Must pick up the pieces,

and bring them back,

to the whole.

I am now standing,

on the other side . . .

Looking, seeing to the

middle through to . . . here . . .

Coitus Interruptus

George W. Bush recently stated, “A withdrawal at this time would be surrender.” This struck me because this is the man who surrendered the U.S. Constitution to Power and Greed. Now our fearless Warmongers can’t handle premature ejaculation. The definition of Surrender is: To give up, abandon or relinquish. A definition of Withdrawal is Coitus Interruptus. We all know who’s getting screwed and, The Patriot Act is anything but a condom. Now let us take heed that no one deceive us. This man also claims to hear the voice of God and has a Messianic complex. Now look up the word Schizophrenic. Now many Fascist leaders have been labeled with that word. If the shoe fits . . .

Monsters from the Id

My life has always been strait;

always swimming upstream;

the current pushed me down many times.

Times seem different, but somehow the same.

Been beating ’round the ‘Bush’ getting enlightened.

Wars are to be Wars;

And Fascists spread their monger tongues like butter.

The monster of the ‘id’ shows itself each passing day.

The blinds spots of the brainwashed of time,

and time again.

Why am I amazed at the deception?

There is a hole in their security, filled with delusion.

Fascists score another for another day.

The future will send these shadows,

back to darkness;

as it has always done;

I will be wiser for my strength . . .

What Crawls Beneath

I live in a sham world

where I must look through eyes of crystal.

There are shadows on the walls, and floors running

passed the windows

we huddle together in the cold . . .

Scum Bags and Slum Lords are all the same.

A Wither in a mansion, a Wither in a shack,

A Wither above and below.

From the Elections of 2000 to Thanksgiving 2007.

There’ve been “Payoffs and Rip-offs and lots of dirty deals.”

Now we snap our heads around to see what is

creeping ’round the corner.

Cat woman said to Batman;

“Would you like to stroke my Pussy Willow?”

Cheney said to America;

“Would you like to stroke my G.W. Bush?”

What crawls beneath your mansion is;

what crawls beneath your shack and,

the White House.

What you offer glitters but it certainly is not gold.

Bridges collapse across America while

the assets of the Middle-Class are stolen

by underhanded wealthy ingrates.

The faces have changed but the game;

remains the same.

Will we forget the “Katrinaites” who lost everything?

My brother was one, and one of many.

Now you want to steal my Social Security,

to pay for a War I did not buy

“How can we run when we know?”

We owe you nothing, you billionaire bastards.

You squandered your wealth now;

you look to us for redemption.

You are the scum that crawled from beneath.

I will not be a “slave to phony leaders”

“I will not cease from mental fight”

Until the dagger has fallen from your mouth . . .

Labyrinth

I wander through this Labyrinth;

My steps so slow to avoid invisible,

pitfalls there.

I came upon a Madman’s party,

and met a girl from the fair.

She told me of the woman,

who sang her song so Grace fully.

She told of a place of tranquility;

I have been to that place; I said:

It had fallen sluggish down;

Tyrants rule with divisive sword.

Words cannot be believed, and

actions are only to deceive.

She said; “Continue on this

slender path it will lead you to,

the door . . .

A realm so rich and all yours

will be had for you . . .”

Bounty

It is time I collected,

my bounty.

God knows I have worked,

so hard.

However, times seem so hopeless;

the Authorities,

have made their way.

The challenge hit so,

close to my heart,

the wound almost mortal,

my soul cried, Betrayal!

The countless roads,

of endless lie forever ahead.

I remember all the,

promises that had,

fallen to the dust.

The whore of the media,

earned her fee so well.

She slayed masses;

with such precision,

Goebbels would be proud.

You say our captivity,

is our ultimate

freedom.

Therefore, what “higher power”

brought you to;

such a reprehensible,

position of such,

magnitude? Shall, I

leave you to,

lie with the whore,

you paid so generously?

Who now shows her

beauty, so hideously?

I will not stand with those

who have eaten the apples that fell

from your steed to the road.

They have given their,

sons and daughters

in sacrifice to your whims.

Oh, yes you have won the

battle of the day.

However, you could not touch,

integrity. I watch while,

you pay the price,

of yours. What

your “higher power”;

would not redeem.

You will not have my

freedom, I take my own

liberties.

Acid Rain

Acid Rain,

is falling from my eyes,

And rolling down my cheek;

To see the World in,

Turmoil;

tears my very soul.

All I see are the things you,

want; and all who

must suffer and die,

for your,

vagary. .

The borderline

is just part of,

your chess-game,

for pawns we are,

awaiting your next

compulsion . . .

I will sacrifice

my position for

the people

not the King

for the King is mad

in his wealth,

and desire,

and stands naked, before

us;

ready to devour all

of value.

Ours becomes His;

at the utterance of;

His words,

I stand defiant for

Kings are not

the leader

of the free, but

the Captives.

My mind is free to venture

where it will . . .

George Harrison said,

“Think for yourself

’cause I might not be

here for you . . .”

John Lennon said,

“You should free your mind

instead.”

In addition, I said

it is all right, leaders do not

take captives;

leaders allow you to be free.

The evil of the day

will subside, and

you will remain who you

are . . .

The Future

The future is not ours to grasp.

It is a vapor shifting on the wind

Nostradamus looked through the veil

He saw vague images, shadows of things to come

Not clear until they happened

The murky waters of war are less clear to perceive

Unless we embrace Peace, the future may not be ours to see

“A Road Less Traveled”? No!

A road never trodden is the road to Peace

For humans are blind to the paradox of history

To hold the hand of the enemy, to strive to be free

In addition, someday we may see