Perched upon a corporate throne,

We march into the great unknown

As wasted words of gossip drone

And steel replaces brick and stone.
Soon you find yourself alone

In crowded streets with a global phone,

Doing a random strangers bidding.



A means to an end they say,

As poor men die while rich men play,

When honest work brings modest pay,

And doesn't last 'em through the day

Though profiteers in moral grey 

Flood the airwaves to in turn say,

"Our wealth simply paves  the way,

Tomorrow is your salvation day,

You want peace? Then war is only fitting."



Look and you will see

Money buys democracy,

The Citizens United, see?

If we knew the truth, would we agree?

Those answers are not  going to be

Yes or no but more likely

Maybe, perhaps, or possibly,

Because in reality,

Right and wrong are just kidding.



To those who fret the plagues we face,
Yet believe we can change this place,
Who stifle doubts about the Human Race,
And yearn to be together in this chase,
With subdued pride and envy, in every case,

Seeking common goals to found the base,

May we lay the evil plots to waste,

For evils clients who once stood are now sitting.



The time is now, make a stand
,
Pull our heads out of the sand

Call their bluff with a hidden hand

Of virtue they don’t quite understand,
Defy procedure’s they have planned
,
Unite across the lines that brand,

Refuse all prejudice, none may be accepted.



Some know for they already looked

And the flow of money keeps them booked,

Takes but once to have them hooked,

Setting the table with food uncooked

For others whose foundations shook

Are pitted against the small time crook

Hoping only that we be protected

.

Hark the sounds of rebellious cries

For those that call, they realize

All that lives sure enough dies
But when displeased we close our eyes

To the masters of disguise

Who think their profit justifies

The invisible hand growing in size

While their strings attached go uncorrected



They kept us quiet all the while

Waiting with numbers dialed

To put the innocent to trial

Lining up in single file

To be cast into the same old pile

None willing to lay down their tile,

Casting shadows upon their guile,

The double agent mercantile,

Lobbying candidates to endorse.



All I ask, is to what do we base belief?

Dying children get no relief

Oil poisons the coral reef

Prophecy of the fallen chief

Given a thought but a bit too brief
Together a tree, alone but a leaf
Although it is all who feel the grief

Of our actions consequential course



Corrupted elites discuss our goals

So we continue to dig our holes

To depths that darken souls

Rigging markets to decide our roles

Assumptions made so that greed controls

They draw their graphs till the pencil dulls

Then add a factor, see how that goes

Without even the slightest feeling of remorse



Growth is sacred, but is it moral?

Strengthen reason yet we quarrel

Over falsities of ***** oral

Arrangements like that of floral

Remedies but not doctoral

Blood of fallen lives pastoral

Remind that we’re all mortal

But all thereafter bear the force.



So please tell me at what cost?

In a moments past our objectives lost

Compassion was our hand now tossed

Lines we’ve drawn, lines we’ve crossed

How much dirt can be washed

From our conscience we exhaust

Before shattering glass of fate we sloshed?

Working from the scattered pieces back to the source



It is us who blindly lead the strut

We are the source and nothing but

Whose center point is one giant rut

Where false desires cracked and cut

And the selfish feed an endless gut,

When our culture begins to split and jut,

We might finally ask... It was all for what?

What happened to the land of the free?
What ever became of American equality?
When was The Great Take-back begun?
What became of “with malice toward none”?
What happened to rich people’s responsibilities?
When did we decide our peers were enemies?
Why didn’t we learn from the Great Depression?
Why are we letting them set up another session?

Eenie meanie mighty mo, when is it fine to hire a **?
Hickory slicker zippity zopp, when is this b.s. going to stop?

Why have we let ourselves think like adolescents?
Why do we keep liars and cheaters in our presence?
It’s up to us each who what lies we should tolerate,
So when does being a mountebank go out of date?
When do we start fighting and hitting bullies back
When they make it known they’re on the wrong track.
How many times will they have to lie and steal
For the rest of us to know their villainy is real?

Fluster and bluster and flippity flopping, confidence is dropping
We can no longer trust our leaders to protect, so let’s reject.

When did all of our statesman turn into real estate’s men?
When did the human in humanity cease to matter at all?
What makes half the country vote for a scoundrel horde?
What did our country accomplish by dropping the ball?
Why have we become the people we used to dislike so
And now we are the ones who arm and **** each other?
And why do we still have many lifetimes or more to go
To finish paying for murdering and pillaging our brothers?

Questions, suggestions, all are loudly ignored by them,
Our leaders whose sense of decency has grown dim.

Troubled is the heaviness still brewing from the feud,
As you chew upon the bitterness that our fathers have fed you,
Bent and burdened shoulders cannot accept embrace,
So I beg you, my beloved brothers, let me bear some weight.

There is a bullet in a box of crayons with really strange names like Parkland Perrywinkle, Sandy Hook Sanguine, and Great Mills Green in a place where children play Russian Roulette with their school supplies when they reach in to grab one and they’ve been learning about probability this week Forrest Gump will tell them you never know if you’re going to finish the lesson or turn into a statistic my sister likes to create mosaics by putting a hairdryer to crayons melting cascades of wax down a blank page sometimes she reaches in and it’s the one lead crayon at the top of the page and it’s only one color that seeps down into the crevices of the cafeteria’s tile floor that proceeds to wash away the Proud Honor Roll Parent stickers washes away the Proud Honor Roll Parent stickers I see another child reach into the box and I write another word problem I write another word problem: “Zoey reaches into a box of crayons. What is the likelihood she will not get to hang her drawing up on her kitchen refrigerator? What is the likelihood her funeral photo will hang there instead?” Draw students’ attention to the key word “likelihood.” Tell students This word shows that the question is asking whether or not you will live to tell your parents how your day at school was. and I wonder when school desks will take the shape of caskets in a place where both screams of laughter and screams of terror
are permitted

C’mon, let’s drop some more bombs!
It’s alright, they are the ones who are wrong.
They run, they scream, they hide—
It’s alright, people always die
There’s no need to know why
Just go focus on getting by.

But I’m tired of all the lies
I can’t see—
I’ve lost sight of the blue skies
The fire and smoke burns my eyes
It’s alright, everyone dies!

But why would I live
Where there’s no sunrise?
Blacked out by greed in disguise
I think I can hear their cries!
It’s alright, everyone dies!

Oh, but I know why!
It’s now so clear to me
Oh, yes, I can see
When You compare us to them
It looks like we are free
But this is not who we ought to be
We have to break from this false reverie!


You can’t erase what You’ve done,
Our memories, or the fallen ones.
None of this is my idea of fun
So I won’t turn, I won’t run,
Not until we see the day
When peace has won.