Short Freemen Poems

There was a woman from Beeman
Who enraptured all the seamen
With a gentle touch of her hand
She titillated their laughing gland
Making them feel like freemen...

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They
cut up
the common,
enclosed the heath
and
made
the land
all their own-
putting to the
plough-
once 
freemen,
then wage slaves-
as a pauper
lie.

For more on the English enclosure please read
Oliver Golssmith's 'The Deserted Village' or John Clare/William Barnes poetry...

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Calming journey present travels
Daunting highways of dirt and gravels

Firebombing  businesses and homes unravels
Housewarming rebuilding from grounds battles

~

Coming into life Victorian castles
Crawling toward the scrambles,

Daunting  hoards of freemen  shackles
Calming are the finish structures panels

2/9/20
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©...

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Indeed, we have given up.
Freemen, once...now happy slaves?
No longer able to drink from a Church cup.
We are the most willing knaves.
Tragically, to those who unlawfully 
locked us up.

Stockholm Syndrome has us by the throat.
We are grateful to our masters for our lifelong 
sentence?
Never realizing we must be the butt of jokes.
Contended as our end draws near.
Taken prisoner by a phenomenal,
life-demeaning hoax.



    September 12, 2020
          7pm PST

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