A whole new twist to the same old story
Evil scientist in their laboratories
Creating monsters that live in the night
I often reflect on mankind's plight
As mankind drifts further from his soul
We seek things to fill the hole
The path of lies forever bends
Truth is straight and narrow my friends
As I see it getting bent in every way
I simply find myself compelled to pray
What will become of our sons and daughters
Will their souls be led to slaughter
As scientist seek out another way
To disprove what the bible has to say
Trillions spent in search of a ghost
Another theory of true reproach
Rainbow stars now fill the skies
I wonder what is hidden inside their lies
We can now place a robot up on Mars
But can't help the drunk at the local bar
Trillions more spent on a new space station
But we can't feed the hungry right here in our nation
Seems to me before we go further conquering space
We should maybe try to help out the human race
Our quest for knowledge has drove us insane
We are now so smart we don't use our brain
Our nation was founded "In God We Trust"
Our government says "Let it be covered in dust"
Even this lowly creature up out of the pen
Knows in his heart that thats a sin
Elections are less than a week away
And all the candidates have something to say.
With nervy tenure the ads were on the wing
Tossing the dirt as far and as much as they could fling.
When the signs are all up with their names posted there
I always say..."Voter, Beware!"
It's not their programs that they'll try to move
But the largess in their pockets that they'll try to improve.
I won't say I'm not cynical about election day
I work as a judge during that crazed fray.
Candidates all quote Washington, Jefferson, and Lincoln for sure
It would be better for us, if they knew who they were!
Freedom vs Opinion
I find that in these times, in our countries newest 'reform',
That we have lost sight of our nations reason to form.
our ancestors came here to obtain the rights for you and me,
Now I wonder if they would still consider this nation as free.
I am aware our gun control polices are ineffective at best,
but, it wasn't the gun, it's the shooter, that failed the moral test.
The very same cities, who uphold the most stern of gun laws,
have the highest rates of murder by guns, doesn't that seem like a flaw.
The law doesn't work, because criminals do not go by the book,
it will be only law abiding citizens unarmed, it needs a second look.
The author of the bills, aren't even educated on the right terminology,
I wonder, how they purpose a bill in wrong terms, what's that ideology?
An assult riffle means fully automatic, so they are already banned,
but, the sandy hook shooter was equiped with TWO PISTOLS on hand.
It's not that I don't grieve for their mothers, I am a mother as well.
I can only pray noone else has to live through that hell.
I'm not saying It wasn't horrible, it was, but banning guns isn't right.
Just to clarify that it isn't the weapon, it's the one holding it tight.
A gun takes no action against people of it's own free will.
It has to be aimed and fired before it makes a kill.
This argument is not being made out of my own personal greed.
I just want to have the right to have my own protection when I am in need.
This is the last point and example, that I will give to you for today,
The L.A. riots; what if the innocent bussiness owners, had their gun rights taken away?
How much human blood, would have covered those sidewalks,
we need to address that the law unarms only law abiding citizens, in the Washington talks
This evening I listen to a Rock 'n' Roll band
Their track is Civil War, as our world now expands
To us it's the same size but to others they despise
For the want of greed exists in their killer hungry eyes
Where do I start, to say of their evil spread
A different starvation leaving the world in evil dread
It's not our today's but our yesterdays years
That our history tells us, of our everlasting torn tears
Cambodia, the Lebannon, and Sri Lanka's Indian sun
Rebels who demand better at the end of a gun
Guaetamala and Peru with their Shining Path
Villagers in terror decrying it's ever last
Democracy is our power in it's controllable exist
Like the Shining above, how long will our future paths persist
Recent news in the Arabic World, has taken tyrants by surprise
For decades they have stolen with their torturing infidel lies
I could go deeper and deeper to describe these evils acts
In wanton blood spillage, to increase civil war torn facts
For this is the world we live in, it appears we determine to live
Maybe in our lifetime it will be on our doorstep, we open, our lives will sieve
Looking all around me and becoming more aware,
Of the people and surroundings at which many children stare.
I come to terms and realize the acts of hate I see,
And now I fear that this same scene will soon envelope me.
Walking on a lonesome road, though crowded it may seem,
I pass through silent hordes of people hushing silent screams.
Beside me standing hand-in-hand, older man and wife,
I wonder if they thought like me, what happened to their life.
I reminisce now further back before these broken days,
A time of wasting food and drink and dressing different ways.
But now we all look just alike in tattered grays and browns,
Drifting through these damaged streets and sporting matching frowns.
I thought we'd left the two world wars and poverty behind,
To linger in our broken books and fill an older time.
A time where death would cloud the world with sorrow and disease,
And fear would plant itself within the innocent with ease.
This made me think and look around for Noah and his arc,
And for the first time since the night I heard a flustered lark.
I quickly turned around to spot within a child's hands,
An injured bird whose time had brought it here from other lands.
The child stole a piece of thread from a redbreast robin's nest,
And wrapped around the ailing bird a splint so it could rest.
An hour past the lark took flight and answered to the wild;
The only resting place of hope is in the bright eyes of a child.
Like a warm cotton bud used to give inner ears a clean
there is something comforting about routine.
Knowing where you stand and the order of play,
knowing what to expect at every point in your day.
Living to a schedule, everything has it’s time and place -
knowing the slots you have free for any plans you need to make.
Wardrobe colour-coded, in garment order.
Wallpaper with a matching border.
Appointments at ten to, five to, on the dot.
Check, double-check, the doors are locked.
Yellow ball, green ball then pot the brown.
Big box, little box, upside down.
I like to gaze into the sky and dream, of an afternoon.
Relaxing. Like the scent of a chaste tree, when in bloom.
A cold glass of lemonade, a long and foamy bath,
humming along to the radio, a love that warms the heart.
Reading the Sunday paper, and making it an event,
the delightful things the kids say, things only they could invent.
His reputation precedes him: a disruptive, class clown.
Never completes his work, he’s always mucking around.
A big-mouth, show-off with far too much to say:
He asks if I ever considered teaching him in a different way.
‘A physical learner’ - he’s heard about it on the news.
There could be something in it…but I’ve far too much to do.
Cars whiz about, people in a hurry.
“I’ve waited over an hour for my curry.”
Twenty four seven lifestyle, word abbreviation.
Text message becoming the preferred means of communication.
Everybody rushing, to keep on schedule, to maintain status quo.
Everyone a cog in the system: You’re whipped, if you don’t row.
Seamless is the transition between asleep and awake,
when you just let it happen, not worry about being late.
An unrushed project results in a rewarding prize:
taking your time meant you got it right.
So bin the itinerary, flout the rules,
just for once why don‘t you try something new?
A time for golfing after the crime
Crime committed but do no time
American justice is that what you call it
When guilt is determined by the size of your wallet
The government doesn't care if it's not fair
As long as they get their fair share
If Capone had paid his taxes long ago
He would have been Mayor of Chicago
If you have the cash, judges sit in awe
And put your actions above the law
A push for gun control is really hot
So their friends, the criminals, won't get shot
Hail the defendant, put his name in lights
Deny the victim his civil rights
For child molesters we need to change course
I would recommend a vigilante force
We can't fix organized crime and that's a sin
It's our own fault because we voted them in
American justice will never be the best
Until we enforce the laws like they did in the Old West.
My nightmare is so tangible...so vividly I dream,
The dream, it feels so true to me...reality it seems.
Exhaust and smoke are all I breathe...the air is full of smog...
The job I do is thankless toil, but I work it like a dog.
There's mercury in the fish I eat...there're toxins in my food...
And drugs, they are a constant scourge...myriads for every mood.
Bipolar is my government...a house divided 'tis...
And corporations drive both sides...in the pockets of "Big Biz".
The icecaps, they are melting...the sea is rising, too.
Pandas, condors, polar bears -- empty cages at the zoo.
My money ne'er seems quite enough...I'm always out of cash...
My freedom fled when I wed my bride...(live I under the lash).
"Entertainment"? Reality TV...maybe some vampire shows...
Or idjits becoming household names for being beachfront "ho's".
People clamor "climate change" from the seats of S.U.V.'s,
And bitter news on the honey front...what's killing all the bees?
Politicians spending more...we go deeper in the red.
Opinions dressed as "news" abound...is journalism dead?
Cell phones are ubiquitous...conversation's endangered now...
And "Kardashians" are famous girls..but who knows why or how?
How strange my twisted psyche is t'make real what must be fake...
Now'f only I could find some way to get myself to wake.
Written on November 27th, 2012
By Daniel Beus (Rebel Sun)
The Government and me;
were my fantasies free,
Would spend all our money
on a fantasy tree.
We'd chop it and chip it
and turn it to pulp.
Then press it; and print it
to give us our wealth.
The government and me
were my fantasies free,
would spend all our money
on a fantasy tree.
Your History (COUPLET)
Your History. Your
Full Mystery. Your
Slave Name. Your
True Shame. Your
Mixed Race. Your
Mislaid Trace. Your
Earth Fallen. Your
Birth Stolen. Your
New Voice. Your
Bad Choice. Your
Shame Rain. Your
Rage Strain. Your
Heart Torn. Your
Pain Born. Your
Awful Dream. Your
Africa Scream. Your
Ugly Night. Your
Rising Bright Light
June 07, 2005
By Mohlouoa Ntsasa