.
.
We spread our arms, beseech the sky,
but wonder why we even try
to elevate our species' place (?)
if much we touch is soon disgraced.
...We've potential not ignorable;
we'd fall short... I'd bet? Deplorable.
...And what of saucers flying there...
perhaps with "persons" filled—mon frère?
Perhaps we're under observation
...though taken for an infestation?
Waiting for some swift correction
from those "persons" passed detection?
We don't know! The best response!
Yet, we're in faux pride ensconced!
Bad enough—won't you agree—
where one's compelled to callous knees!
We aren't careful in that void;
we won't make a sentient choice.
Hearing what we want to hear,
we're wasteful as regards what's dear:
...Life and children we'd respect,
so give them more than sad neglect!!!
Be our planet's steward—friend—
and not a life-force we offend!
Are we wasteful... loathsome beings
with nothing but our gall and spleen...
to keep us from complete disaster—
groveling for some mango master?
These "leaders" will short-change your schooling,
Conjure it to be harsh and grueling.
School so bad it hurts the soul,
so, "to it," you are loath to go.
See, there they keep you stupid, friend,
to reproduce what they contend...
is *best* for hapless "feebs" and "peeps"...
alive to keep THEM warm, you see?
Some stuff I learned in school...
were the histories, folks, that we abuse...
These provided demonstrations!
Compassion does not kill a nation!
In point of fact, its lack of same
is what would prove to be at blame!
See, a "nation" can, at best, be sussed
by how it treats the least of us!
.
Keep "art" and "music" out of schools?
Then, sing the newest MAGA blues!
Watch soulless drudges leave those halls
to empty lives devoid—appalled!
...Art and Music elevate...
provoking questions changing fate,
but we find out what's planned for us:
trust betrayed... by psychotic thugs...
"Muzak's" soothing, what you think?
...But then we smell its fishy stink.
Music is constructive feeling;
it's art at best and THEN we're dealing!
No, save a buck on art and music
—lose your soul, I think, abusing—
all that these might somehow be...
if these should KEEP their sanity!
Once in school, a teacher's "paid":
"teach damaged kids a damaged trade"—
standard English, small respect,
some life beyond that child's neglect?
...Teaching nothing as it happens,
they just suit sad circumstances...
They're among our disrespected,
with some malice they're objected,
paid small pittance, little mind,
and no respect one comes to find...
...A lot more teachers, good surroundings—
make the learning valued, charming.
Perchance to make kids... LOVE their school?
Have them grasp this golden rule?
Make their learning real enough
to TRULY make them better off?
Pull them from their squalid holes?
Give them "chances" yours would know?
Too, empty prisons you have made
to counter disrespect now paid!
...You know... that mechanism you've maintained
to keep REAL slavery a legal bane!
I know there's more than what we see:
a quantum relativity!
A marriage of the macro spaces
with causal subatomic places!
Tiny strings in humming loops
to vibrate out our hand-held truths...
in ways we shan't perceive at all...
from space and time, and MORE, this calls!
I contest our frame of reference.
Aristotle's lost my deference.
We don't hold the "center spot!
To think we should? ...Hubristic rot!
See, we are still conflicted by...
those "crystal spheres" old Greeks contrived!
These disserve us, we have found.
For the sun? They're a thick black cloud!
Aristotle WAS quite wrong,
but Christian churches played along.
They would keep his lie alive,
that we were "chosen"! We bought that jive!
That "man" should wear "creation's crown,"
and not be labeled as its clown!
That men were always God's proud chosen,
"masters" of all space emboldened...
for all their faith... these facile dreams
that—at the LAST—they're not obscene!
Saucers flit and dance... or flicker
as our sordid games got sicker!
We don't ask ourselves those questions
curing, likely, mad obsessions...
People suffer every day
so others can "pretend" they're "prey"...
Fearsome swine absolved of guilt
who live in castles sheeple built...
They're "sitting in the tallest cotton"
with souls corrupted—grace forgotten!
People starve, and rot or stink
while others sip exotic drinks.
These people fret in misery,
but faithful, kiss their rosaries...
...Trained to put their faith in God,
these folks presume they need his nod...
to ask, at last, the honest questions
—real answers—sans rejection!
Though they're remiss if they believe
untested faith provides relief,
a life has value if examined...
reconsidered... then re-examined!
...Otherwise, it's valueless...
...sans all worth and vacuous.
Some of us ARE good as gold!
Some of us are hard and cold.
Most are kept in shifting shadows,
ignorant, misguided—callow.
These, the ones who do the work,
are kept in debt like foolish jerks,
so some can have their crystal fixtures,
autumn homes—expensive pictures...
This "attitude," so mis-configured,
serves us up our "dung," it's figured...
Those on "top" would stay the same,
and "write" their rules—ensure their game.
They would stay their harmful course
so unconcerned—sans all remorse...
blithely building "grand estates"
which sprawl behind their walls and gates.
Outside the gates it's hand to mouth...
and mortgages are headed south.
Health insurance is denied;
the working poor are criminalized.
The gulfs between them getting wider,
"elites" connive like cunning spiders...
We are—merely—bugs to them;
we work and bleed as they condemn.
We lubricate their grand existence...
in—underbalanced—coexistence
then they mock our harsh travail
that they've imposed and where we flail...
Plus they keep the secrets, plainly—
clasp them to their breasts insanely.
They won't give us what we need,
as we are here to work and breed...
to make more hands for them to use,
souls that they corrupt, abuse...
...And still our questions raise soiled hands,
beseech the heavens as they stand...
and ask it, "please... what's going on..."
...as we're used up and preyed upon.
lehmberg2002@gmail.com
www.AlienView.net
Restore John Ford... read on.
