Poem by Denis Halliday - mentions RTE - GEORGE W TALKING TO LAURA OVER BREAKFAST

by Gary Stonecipher - Poetic Justice Tue Feb 11, 2003 00:10 Gary at ADHDelivers dot com 311 Second Street, Liverpool, NY 13088 (315) 491-3119

'Soylent Green' Pastures
By: Gary Stonecipher

The Power Merchants are winning...
as they ever so slowly corrupt...
those charged with the publics well-being.
The Constitution said "We the people..."
but was changed somewhere along the way to...
"We the Corporate, who now own your arse..."
The change was steady, organized and slow,
year after year; generation after generation,
'til as far as you could see, was theirs.
Traitors who live amongst us,
doing the bidding for the wealthy few.
Clean are their hands, as they never get dirty,
as they shout not me... and another scapegoat...
is offered up on the Great Alter of Power.
Who are these traitors who sell their soul;
Minions-R-A-Plenty is the place to go,
where they sell Small Men with Small Minds,
Men who think they are greater...
than what God has made them.
The currency used in buying such a fool,
a signing bonus of instant pleasure...
with the promise of power and gold to come later.
They set about to spoil the land and foul the air,
and make us work in substandard conditions,
for wages which shrink year after year.
As the Earth gets sick... so do our children,
bills piling up as we try to improve our condition,
with no solution in sight... but wait a minute...
Out of the kindness of their heart,
they loan us the money to ease our struggle.
See! We aren't so heartless they say...
patting themselves on the back.
For which they reward themselves handsomely,
by doubling our interest rate to pay for it.
As they say... It was swallowed - hook, line and sinker.
Now the Corporations own u.s. body and soul,
and we sold our "FREEDOM" on the cheap.
My precious "Freedom"!
"Freedom" to chose ones own destiny;
"Freedom" to come and go as one pleases;
"Freedom" to speak up and about anything;
"Freedom" to dream about an enchanting future;
and all "Hope" must and will be crushed...
for without "Hope"... "Freedom" will die!
Without my precious "Freedom"...
what then is my reality to be;
Of what value then am I?
I am nothing more, than someone's slave!
But in whose hands... does my fate now rest?
Who will become my Master?
Will my Master be kind to me...
or will I be whiped into submission?
Will I feast at Masters table...
or am I only worthy of Masters table scraps?
Will I have nice cloths to wear like Master...
or will I be wearing tattered rags?
Will I see my children grow...
or will Master sell them to another?
What will life be like... after I am marched...
to the "Soylent Green" Pastures!

by A famous poet Tue Feb 11, 2003 18:02

Those poems are shite! They don't even rhyme.