earthsranger

A single choice we all must make Will form the path our fate will take You can have either, A life that’s long lived though always bound   Or,   A fight to be free with but a few allies around Most will opt for a long life without thought Gladly sacrificing what they were in order to belong A few will choose to rally under the flag of freedom And armed with truth, they will shed light into darkness Which do you choose????????

I often tire of my own brand of poetic whining Much like juice, my words become condensed, concentrated and marked for individual sale They quickly fly off shelves becoming the latest must buy I feed on the acclaim much as a washed up rocker leeches off royalties and car commercials Was there ever any depth to my pond of tepid creativity? Reading what is written, I see that yet again I have manufactured my emotions for exploit So as you chew on this latest delicacy, Do take care not to eat my words too fast For it will be no fault of mine if you get indigestion of the mind

Sitting among men of yellow brilliance I am humbled How can one raindrop alter the pond? For if the path of virtue lies through sacrifice, What then is left the ravenous wolves?

Pathetic men chant from their soapboxes of presupposed divinity Another life is lost with each venomous word that is spewed forth The death cries of the fortunate reach only deafened ears Much like a tortured spider trapped in a glass jar, our senses are plucked from us With each leg lost our stability wanes, Till' at last we break in all the RIGHT places In our new state we achieve complacency We become the walking dead We falter without the will to live or the strength to die

Land of the lost for the children of today For we allow the blind to rule How much must we all pay before our dues are done? The cost of incompetence can stagger the greatest, And the greatest can still fall The weakest link of our chain is free For the rest there are shackles Made not of steel but of fear We place these shackles upon ourselves Thinking we are doing what is right Today's righteouses are fools who dance the tune of the deaf Forever locked in automation not of their own design Manipulation of power is means to an end Control is the goal and it's not hard to acquire Hypothetical intrusion is ok (when needed) Borde

What shall I come to make of this land As I burn my feet upon its sand And when every night I waste in sleep I dream in pain for secrets I keep Am I the slave or possibly the Taskmaster Thoughts in head, gears turn faster Opinion neutral for the land of today Verdict for me, self-loathing to stay