.
.
We're at the whim of sullen monsters,
churlish agents—provocateurs.
We're tazed by charming charlatans,
men in black... and crooked Jurors!
.
Errant "pundits" grace them airtime,
and the dust is quickly raised!
It's soon we're all insensible,
standing rigid, stunned—afraid!
.
Then, once again, all truth is lost;
it wanders in the fray.
.
...See, once again a fog is loosed
in which we're all delayed.
...We once again step backward;
we're hamstrung and betrayed...
BUT, a jealous few make profit...
on mistakes that they've prepaid!
.
...Still, some "magic" surely lingers
in some sullen sleight of hand...
The "magic" that exists beyond
the "science" they'd "command"?
.
The "magic" passed that "two percent"—
which changes all the rules?!
The "magic" that's not copped to
in disgracing low-rent schools.
The "magic" that displays itself
for free in all our skies;
the "magic" that betrays the man
and all his skillful lies!
The "magic"? It's autonomy.
The "magic" of release!
The "magic" of our future
yawning vast and sans surcease.
.
The "skeptibunky crowd" delights
in frauds of "woo-woo" light...
It strengthens glib positions
of their "science" and its worshiped might.
All is right with them, then;
all their castles, built in air—
can be left to churlish offspring
who are standing, idly, where?
.
The "believers," disenfranchised
by these skeptibunky boors,
look beyond the hopeless pale
to a time beyond accord.
Sadly, used up in their "reaching"
for the "brass ring," they are told,
is the object of *true* happiness:
a car, a home—some 'fold'...
.
UFOs? Then silly,
a dangerous kind of thing.
You're "crazy" if you see them...
...Though, perceive the change they'd bring!
.
Yes, change would come... and not all good...
Still... good enough I'd think.
...As it stands we're on a precipice,
and we totter on its brink!
.
See, there's more to mean existence
than to toil endlessly?
That there's more to simple living
than to suffer needlessly?
That there's more to life than working
so some few can rape the sky
just to squander all that largesse
on themselves in selfish pride!
.
Where's pride in all our USELESS schools?
They're designed to keep us stupid!
Evil "inculcations" keep the "masses"
starved and toothless!
.
The man won't have "sane" birth control!
It's its EXCESS that's his flavor...
his "manipulated mechanisms"
for controlling what he favors!
See? Then there's clamor for his "pick and choose."
He ensures the "status quo"...
"competition," see, then tows his line?
...Or knows a life of woe...
.
The man co-ops your hopes and dreams
to choose out what he has.
He won't be, first, respectful—
then he won't care you've been had!
.
It's all about "control," you see,
and "secrets" KEEP control!
I'd suspect he'll be reluctant...
giving up on what he holds.
It's why he makes ridiculous
all the lights that haunt your skies.
Those lights imply that he is passed,
his "system" now deposed—deprived.
.
So, damn you charmless agents,
and go to hell (!) provocateurs.
Go back, you sullen monsters,
to the hells we have endured!
Eat *spit* you 'charming' charlatans,
crooked jurors, men in black.
A little harder now to fool we've found
the deck's been surly stacked!
.
Errant pundits give you air time,
so you hoist your own petard.
Be careful what you're saying,
or get smoked like cheap cigars!
Your "ethics" and your "morals"
will be held, as well, to YOU...
with no more double standards
to corrode our will—just truth.
- lehmberg2002@gmail.com
- www.AlienView.net
Our depression precipitates with the suggestion that it becomes too difficult to tell the monsters, charlatans, provocateurs, crooked jurors, and men in black... from the genuine "well-intentioned." Indeed, are they even somehow the same... how can we know?
Most others smirk up their lauded sleeves, lack the egalitarian stones to ask the tough questions, or openly sneer at what the aforementioned facilitators serve up as frequent fare. Shallow smallness quickly dries up and is smashed underfoot by ponderously evolving events of magnitude and significance.
I am compelled to a respect and an appreciation for that. One "riding coattails" to the future should respect same.
Astonishingly, without this most minimal respect for lubricating the man's "trickle-down machine," we're expected to, otherwise, provide maximum respect and regard for same. I suspect the dog must, ultimately, turn to bite the hand feeding it such disrespectful and unhealthful fare.
Such are wages of Tyrants and fascists.
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