There once was a Christmas at home
as kids we four spent it alone
see my mom broke her nose
as she tripped over her toes
and the truth of old Santa made known

The sky still blue and spacious
our fields grow golden grains
snow capped mountains
are still viewed in placid reflecting pools
fruits and nuts are upon our trees
but as for brotherhood between the seas
the good has become harder to find
our light has dimmed

They came seeking relief from religious oppression
only to convert and pervert what they found
their freedom meant
the abolishment of the ways of
the new world they had come to
with violence and death
taking more land
there was no self control
no liberty
no real law other than
might made right
for the new people did not honor their god
and were deserving of death

These were not heroes
they did not liberate the peoples of this new land
they showed no mercy
there was nothing noble or divine in their treatment
not of the peoples
nor of the lands that they found

They had a dream
of great alabaster cities
built them
but today
these are filled with empty dilapidated buildings
the homeless
and the violence that built them
tears run down the cheeks
of mothers and fathers losing their sons and daughters
tears are shed by the victims
of the religious extremism that was seeded in those early times

How can we continue to sing America The Beautiful?

Stuck in the box
a steel trap of a mind
when rusted shut
a man falls behind

Our language is wicked
when with one single word
so many meanings can vary
with the way they are heard

For the mind that is closed
understanding's a chore
but once it is open
it can perceive so much more

Thirsting for blood
expecting a flood
when the turnip goes dry
their greed does not die

no the blood from a turnip
is never enough
it must be ground to a pulp
it's a treatment quite rough

we're put through the mill
which is never a thrill
with too little pay
so they might have their way

but somehow we survive
although barely alive
as they leave us a crumb
no they're greed is not dumb

the field has been plowed
they've planted the seed
from our pockets they'll harvest
the next crop of their greed

what does it matter
whether they come for your money
or they come for your blood
the fact that they come
speaks of a dark heart
they are the takers
they've no wish to share with us
only leaving enough seed behind
to ensure another harvest

our money and blood
the sweat of our brow
they depend on it
they demand our loyalty to their cash cow
while seeing us as fodder for their cannons
they thirst ever for more
never satisfied with the hoard
they've already amassed

those who stand in their way
they're expendable
the rich get richer by the day
our cost to live
continually endangered
oh how the plutocrat loves to hold his third world ransom

that is what we are becoming

we are their stepping stones
and once we are used to cross a river
bringing the takers to greener pastures
we are no longer needed
there will always be more stones
that they can throw into the waters

we are no more than bridge material to their next fortune
once crossed to be thrown away
they'll not need our bridge a second time
they never look back and care not
for the rubble they leave behind

I had no dog in the hunt
but I kept score anyway
at least I though I was
I believed that the numbers of the fallen
ours and theirs
was the score of war
the body count kept increasing
more soldiers were sent
when that war died down
another began
once again the thoughts of
'who cares, I don't have to go'
came back
once again I began counting bodies
the cycle kept repeating itself
I began to notice
so many former soldiers
disabled
homeless
more dying of suicide
than in the wars they fought
while the military industrial community
continued to feed their coffers
by the blood of the fallen

What was the score again?

I seem to have lost count.

You must wake to their lies
unto the truth
and it must be done
during the days of youth

for those who wait
until days of old
will find that their heart
has been grown as a mold

kept in the dark
and living in shadows
always afraid
to look out their windows

denying the violence
accepting the wars
and avoiding the truth
they've become cold hearted ******