We want things to be easy
I look back on time and wonder
How could they be so strong
While we carry signs and grumble?
The world is a museum of invention
Yet we grow weaker each day
We have built our shelter
But our minds have gone astray
Once upon a time
A man looked to the West
He only needed freedom
And without he could never rest
His spirit arrived before him
With its silent call of courage
He never worried about time
In dust his dreams would forage
He didn’t know the words
Entitlement or welfare state
He had a horse and wagon
In the back rode his fate
He broke the hour glass
And kept moving on
No pause for help
Only his word to rely upon
No comfort in the cold
Or parsing words of nuance
Instead they tilled the land
And became men of renaissance
The pictures of old wise men
And words without a face
I wonder if they would laugh
At the state of the human race
A story teller of the past
Who lives on as we complain
An odd looking sort
By the name of Twain
Another painted a ceiling
While laying on his back
For years he toiled
With the artistry we lack
These are my heroes
Not a man screaming in the streets
Demanding more leisure
He is no better than the elites
They lived apart in distance and time
With years between shared utterances
They lived without going viral
Only hoping for history’s remembrances
As grown men show you their palms
Demanding them to be filled with coin
Every result to be guaranteed
The fruits of another to be purloined
Can you see what has happened?
Can you see the rising tide?
No man who makes demands
Can ever be denied
A politician’s waste
In the name of a good deed
Today we fired another
Tell me… where will it lead?
May 7, 2012
May 7, 2012 at 5:59 PM UTC
We want things to be easy
I look back on time and wonder
How could they be so strong
While we carry signs and grumble?
The world is a museum of invention
Yet we grow weaker each day
We have built our shelter
But our minds have gone astray
Once upon a time
A man looked to the West
He only needed freedom
And without he could never rest
His spirit arrived before him
With its silent call of courage
He never worried about time
In dust his dreams would forage
He didn’t know the words
Entitlement or welfare state
He had a horse and wagon
In the back rode his fate
He broke the hour glass
And kept moving on
No pause for help
Only his word to rely upon
No comfort in the cold
Or parsing words of nuance
Instead they tilled the land
And became men of renaissance
The pictures of old wise men
And words without a face
I wonder if they would laugh
At the state of the human race
A story teller of the past
Who lives on as we complain
An odd looking sort
By the name of Twain
Another painted a ceiling
While laying on his back
For years he toiled
With the artistry we lack
These are my heroes
Not a man screaming in the streets
Demanding more leisure
He is no better than the elites
They lived apart in distance and time
With years between shared utterances
They lived without going viral
Only hoping for history’s remembrances
As grown men show you their palms
Demanding them to be filled with coin
Every result to be guaranteed
The fruits of another to be purloined
Can you see what has happened?
Can you see the rising tide?
No man who makes demands
Can ever be denied
A politician’s waste
In the name of a good deed
Today we fired another
Tell me… where will it lead?
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