HISTORY

No end to the stupidity'
To the cupidity'
To the futility.
No end to the trajedy
Of man's life on earth.

No end to the ferocity,
To the verbosity,
To the rapacity.
No end to the velocity,
Of man's fall from grace

No end to the ravings,
To the cravings'
To the slavings.
No end to the knavings,
Of man as a race.

No end to the lies'
To the cries'
To the sighs.
No end to the buys
Of sadness and dismay.

No end to the violence,
To the science'
To the finance.
No end to the silence
That licenses all these wrongs.

No end to the beginning,
No end to the ending'
To the replayinmg.
Just an endless disarraying
Of man's mindless way.

The Idealist

A man conceived in his own rhyme,
Fanned overwrought by the fires of his line.
Conceited by his seeming power over time,
By taking movements over in their prime.

Planning the overthrow of mind,
Conceiving a universe of his own kind.
Believing he has has his private mine
In past excesses of the blind.

The ravings of this disorderly fringe
Embossed on paper that impinge,
On every decent value bought at hard cost,
And so easily over the side lost.

He has banished character to the hills,
And enshrined senselessness in all its ills.
Oh what a legacy we've left
To only thise who are so deft.

His ideas sound very nice
But reality exacts a different price.
Progress can't be bought at another's expense,
Its not a gift but recompense.

The harborings of someone's illusion
Have now become a mass delusion.
Prompted by unknown collusion
And now awash in growing confusion.

How many causes lie hidden
By most of us unbidden.
But now completely embalmed in Law
No matter how obviously raw.

Yes, there's evil in the theme
And much forgotten in the scheme.
The sword that you now wield
Indiscriminately makes many yield.

The power to present
Is the power to prefer.
To lift one person up
Is now to cast another down.

Power now has its revenge,
The usurper is of another fringe.
Truth is trampled like its always been,
Right is just another name for the power of the in.

BiCentennial Blues

Into the forbidden zone
Crept the High Court all alone.
And with powers heretheto unmknown
Wiped out past excesses with its own.

Doctrines once thought bad and raw
Have now become settled law.
And many things good that went before
Now are forgotten for evermore.

Those who now have rights
Can do no wrong.
And those now in the wrong
Can do no right.

The shape of the future
Glimmers from the Past
Like embers of a fire almost out
But carelessly ignited again by ignorant touts.

We are judged in Time
In the same way as past.
No matter who or how
We regard ourselves as cast.

But something has to be said
And someone has to say them.
To break the chains of thought
That bind us to damnation.

The fight is not to free men's minds
But to bind them blind.
So that no matter what
We can't tell wrong from right.

Its a game that other people play
With other peoples lives and way.
And most only have the option of sayin g nothing
And allow it to keep its sway.

Ah, they said the world is twisted and decayed.
Just give us a chance they said and we will make it sage.
But now this stupidity to which you have contributed your share,
Tells you why the world is always unfair.

A bigot used to be a person who deprives another of his rights
But todays despots say it really is those trying to hold on to what they've got.
Why this should be
Makes History.

Where are you?

Can you sit on a throne?
Can you mark time alone?
Can you be by yourself?
And wait on the shelf?

Can you keep your head up?
Is your spirit alive?
Can you feel good inside?
While you look like deprived?

Can you make a good fight?
Can you do what is right?
Can you refuse to go along?
With the same old songs.

What do you know?
Where have you been?
Who have you served?
Besides your own kin.

Can you think for yourself?
Are your ideas your own?
Can you hold to your opinion?
Or you wait for the Evening edition?

Must we always be perfect?
And always correct?
Can't we be a little human?
And have som e defects.

Its no mistake we're down the drain.
It's all become a very big pain.
We forget what's acceptable in the main,
And sweep away all that's sane.

Schizophrenia

To what it is
From what it was.

To being free from the facts
From being responsiblefor your acts.

To being entirely excused
From being falsely accused.

To abandoning the innocent
From saving the guilty.

To having the only position
From having no opposition.

To not being able to oppose
From not being able to propose.

To the majority of the few
From a minority of the many.

To suppressing the majority
From oppressing a minority.

To a way of domination
From a process of accommodation.

To never enough
From not enough.

To propagandizing education
From training leaders of Men.

To the Know Everythings
From the Know Nothings.

The Higher Mathematics

How much difference makes a difference?
How many is too many?
How far is far enough?

How many wrongs make a right?
How do the extremes become the means?
How does a point become a pattern?

What is true
When everything said for it is false?
And everything said against it is true?

What is right
When everything right works wrong?
And everything wrong works right?

Why do we think we can bring in a new good
By reviving old evils?
Why is it always true but never a fact?

Why does the right to be wrong
Become the right to do wrong?
Why what we perpetuate also preponderates?

When can a fact not be a fact?
When you are blessed
Does that mean the rest of us are damned?

"All Things Pass" says the philosopher
But some not soon enough
And time seems still and all seems ill.

And yet our lives don't stand still.
Burdened alive with every ill.
Given no rest and against our will.

When does fooling become ruling?
When does reason recognize reality?
And Law approach morality?

Growth

While I flee the frightening waves,
Always running, never fighting.
Hoping to escape, yet feigning
That I'm still the same.

But the years as the waves wear me down
So that less and less of me still remains.
And Time not only steals my body
But forces me also to abandon myself.

Like a routed army fleeing a defeat
Its path from disaster strewn with lost promises.
Its goal the final loosing, and loss,
Of what made it first exist.

Yet, there still remains that me,
That feeling that I'm still there.
Leaving me with faith that as the years go by
More has been added than lost.

As if something continually works this being
To the perfection of that form desired,
So that at the end a new person emerges
Through the growth that is life.