The Muse You Choose...

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You're disgusted with the state of things. You're impatient for some change. You suspect your right wing leadership's dissembling and insane.
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You feel as though you've been betrayed. You suffer disrespect. You tolerate a government not remotely circumspect.
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You perceive there is conspiracy. You discern it lives and breathes. You gather it has been employed... to bring you to your knees.
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And you know that there are UFOs.  You see them for yourself.  Your culture seems opposed to one who tries to know ones self.
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You cannot trust your mainstream. You smell its artful lie. There's much pretense for foolish lies that nothing haunts our sky.
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You're revolted by religion, and the "Fundies" make you sick. You know invented deities do the bidding of these pricks.
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Is "science" your social arbiter?  Is it god or mal-used tool? Do you let it dictate policy?  Too, you dread its turgid rule.
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Do errant posers profit? Do they prosecute their "need"?  Do they blandly soil the shoulders of the giants of our breed?
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Are you sickened by society? ...Abhor the status quo? You are fed up with a "system" which precludes your "right to know."
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You are trifled by obnoxious trolls! Do they caper, leap and dance? These ghouls of ...'un'-revision... so complacently they'd prance!
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You are sick and tired of being played for a clue-robbed—hapless—tool. You feel short-changed flotsam, slighted chump... affronted fool.
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You might sense a new reality?  You're made outraged and contentious?  You are finished with indignity! You are ripe for the seditious!
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Yes, snub their hijacked networks, friend. Refuse their print and graph. Reject their artless selling, puerile prose, or photograph!
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Eschew "convenient" history. Avoid contrived accounts.  Disbelieve authorities of mainstreams who don't count.
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Read ~forbidden~ indexes. Think outside their box. Explore the unexplorable. Explode what's closed and locked.
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Question all authority. Demand what's just and fair. Leaping up from bleeding knees... presume  the guts to dare!
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Speak the truth to power!  Let them know your thoughts.  Voice your felt convictions, friend, before you mourn their loss!
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The future's near upon you, and it's speeding as it comes, but you are more prepared for that; you marched to ~different~ drums. What drums are those, some sneer and smirk from short Cartesian pews? Well, that which finally comes from you, and that's a muse ~you~ choose.

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lehmberg2002@gmail.com
www.AlienView.net

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