We are lost

Lost to the fissure of war

Broken and turned.

Our leaders wish us starved

Or broken under combat.

They stir the Medes

Miles upon the great divides

Of sea and land and plateau.

 

Chariots thunder their wheels;

Great men and armies sail across oceans.

Why did the modest man get silenced?

Why did his breath get stolen from his pipe?

Why do we cower and be afraid

Of a phantom in the night?

As if death, if chosen,

Were not the better option.

 

Death haunts us,

His specter looms into every window.

Rather than make us fat, and nourished,

And allow the little Indians to eat,

The little Arabs and Medes and Persians

For our fat they must die.

 

Why do men follow the will of governments

Who send them overseas to do harm’s bidding?

Why do they march to wardrums

And hate what they will not understand?

Why, why, do we contemplate war

In an age which could prosper every man?

Like Piaget’s cognitive development

There is a spiritual development.

 

It begins that the man or woman cannot understand good and evil.

Like the Child with the cognitive inability to perceive objects

Of equal weight in different forms

A man cannot, at the lowest stage of the development

Understand what is good or evil.

 

Then, after developing the sense of what is good and evil

The man or woman still has to process what forgiveness is.

They cannot, after perceiving evil or good

Understand the aspect of mercy or forgiveness.

 

After developing the sense of when it is right to forgive

The man or woman begins to instill a sense of God

Or higher authority. They cannot, at first

Perceive the higher authority, until they acquire the discernment to perceive it.

 

After finding God exists, the man or woman begins

To discover whether God loves them,

And begins to understand the nature of divine laws and consequences

Or if the God of the Universe is disinterested

Until they perceive that the higher authority interacts with man and does love them.

 

After perceiving that the higher authority interacts with man

And He does love them, they come to the recognition of the moral law

Which best fits that divine love.

And soon they perceive that it is Jesus.

Irish souls in ancient days

Fought war with poesy’s might.

The voices of the souls did sing

They fought for their God blessed right.

 

The press was wrought with gross intent

To make a cautious song.

Yet the Irish rebels sung their verse

And had stole their right from wrong.

 

Guns were words and bullets rhyme

The streets laid the foundation of brick.

Freedom was our rebel’s song

And freedom we sought to fix.

 

The strong have stolen our meat from us

As we chewed upon the leg.

The warriors’ verse was the nations’ trust

The battle was word for bread.

I see him weep.

I weep too.

It’s all gone.

 

Life is conformity

In the age of painted lines

And black bandannas.

Government, come and take me

I’m ready to go home.

 

We at the shores of Maine

To the shores of Florida’s bays

To the California coast

And that Texas’ large host

Do not bow to any king.

We are rife to call a man

A traitor, who takes up political gains.

 

We fought a bloody war

So men could live their dreams

So men, by voice, could scream

“I haven’t, nor will I ever, a king!”

We get to condemn politicians

We get to proclaim ourselves wise.

We, being free, can live or even die

Saying what we will,

Believing what we must.

O’ Liberty, O’ Liberty,

In God, we all must trust!

 

The thunder cracks at dawn

The Liberty bell has cracked.

Yet, tired liberty, ring twice

And you shall break out at last.

The moving troops do wander

The seas carry their waves.

Ships and seamen wonder

At the shore’s of liberty’s fame.

Men hide themselves in the hallows

Women do not grind their bread.

Liberty, O’ Liberty

My face has been surely made red.

For I see the coasts are calling.

I see the airs do rise.

Liberty, O’ Liberty,

My heart’s in you invest’d.

 

Men do not know

Who’ve not tasted liberty once.

To decry each king,

To say rebellious things,

And to meet for freedom’s bunch.

To say what we will,

No matter what will or deign do cost…

Liberty, O’ Liberty, in your name let tyranny rot.

 

For the nations sing their glory

And the oceans tyrant’s fame.

But, in this land that spans the seas

Old Liberty has a name.

I called the king illiterate

And he replied with a good grace.

He did not rage, nor regal nor

Send me to the gallows to hang.

Rather, before all was I made

A fool, when said in perfect words

He spake many languages true.

The misfit finds his rebel cause.

Goes to war, defies all the laws.

How a ripe peach of which to pluck

Is the rebel’s cause loved so much.

 

I? I sit, also, misfit too

Unabashed from eternal youth.

My creative means dries so much

My country dies, the one I love.

 

Is the rifle my fated way?

To lose myself in coup d’é tat?

Will it suffice this longing heart?

Will I in glory play my part?

 

No! I say, in my angry gloom.

My vengeance shall be bloody noon.

I would rather let life depart

From my nostrils than play my part.

 

I will laugh at the wretched dogs

As my body swings o’er the logs.

I died, your hope for freedom last.

Because you’d not free me, I laughed.

You have a pretty face,

It guarantees you 15,000 views a video.

You have a cat, it guarantees you 1,000,000 more.