what is left now...
the homeless are the hobos, the tramps,the boutonnière flagged armies seasoned
by wars that kill the human spirit as if it
were another corporate commodity on sale -
"half price, brother, today only!!
get them while they're warm..."
they talk of heroes like comic book giants
that save the world from evils between
our fucking ears... fearless and strong
but we don't belong to that song ;
the rhythms just can't collate a good
man's soulful tune deep from within...
the sin of angels dressed to kill looking
for dreamboats lost at sea - no anchors
to stop them as they pirate the giving...
the living don't count until they close their eyes
and witness their doom in a room full of rats
hungry for some flesh carved off the dreams
that have grown sober over the passing years...
the homeless, the hopeless, the souls without numbers
numbed by the delivery of death from machines manned
by them promising a heroes welcome from country and
jobs that never materialized - the false pretenses that
stalked the urgency made the soldiers follow the dream...
"we would never be free without your killing."
but the soldier's spirits die in record numbers all for
a pocket full of chump change while the corporate machine
makes the CEO's dreams turn into waste and excess -
the mess of mind grown accustomed to lies and greed
manipulating the masses amassed before the tubes
buying into more and more making them less and less with
each foolish trick to part with our strength of soul to hold
our selves together for the remaining journey left to enjoy...
"what is left now but our now..?"
cecil
20 Jan 2008
).