A poem for the times

I had a dream the other night, that I didn't understand. A figure walking through the mist,with a flintlock in his hand. His clothes were torn and dirty, as he stood there by the bed, He took off his three-cornered hat, and speaking low, he said:

"We fought a revolution,to secure our liberty. We wrote the Constitution, as a shield from tyranny, For future generations, this legacy we gave, In this, the land of the free and the home of the brave." "The freedom we secured for you,we hoped you'd always keep. "But tyrants labored endlessly, while your parents were asleep. Your freedom gone,your courage lost, you're no more than a slave, In this,the land of the free and the home of the brave."

"You buy permits to travel, and permits to own a gun, Permits to start a bussiness, or build a place for one. On land that you believe you own, yu pay a yearly rent,although you have voice in choosing how the money's spent."

" Your children must attend a school that doesn't educate. Your Christian values can't be taught, according to the state. You read about current news, in a regulated press. You pay a tax you do not owe, to please the I.R.S."

"Your money is no longer made of silver or of gold. You trade your wealth for paper,so your life can be controlled. You pay for crimes that our nation turn from GOD in shame, You've taken Satan's number, as you've traded in your name."

"You've given government control to those who do you harm,\So they can padlock churches, and steal the family farm, And keep the country deep in dept, put men of GOD in jail, Harass your fellow countrymen,while corrupted courts prevail."

"Your public servants don't uphold the solemn oath they've sworn. Your daughters visit doctors so their children won't be born. Your leaders ship artillery and guns to foreign shores, And send your son to slaughter,fighting other people's wars."

"Can you regain freedom for which we fought and died? Or don't you have the courage or the faith to stand with pride. Are there no more values for which you'll fight to save? Or do you wish your children to live in fear and be a slave?"

"Sons of the Republic, arise and take a stand! Defend the Constitution, the Supreme Law of the Land! Preserve our great republic and each GOD-given right, And pray to GOD to keep the torch of freedom burning bright!"

As I awoke he vanished, in the mist from which he came. His words were true, we are not free. We have ourselves to blame. For even now as tyrants trample each GOD-given right, We only watch and tremble, too afraid to stand and fight.

If he stood by your bedside, in a dream while you're asleep, And wondered what remains of our rights he fought to keep, What would be your answer,if he called out from the grave? Is this the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave?

Good stuff!

That is PRECISELY how modern totalitarian systems operate.
No need for a machinegun toting agent or soldier on every street corner.
No food coupon? NO FOOD!
No work permit? NO JOB!
No residency permit? LIVE UNDER A BRIDGE (for as long as you can)!
No travel permit? NO TRAVEL!
And the penalties for those who aid one of the “disenfranchized” are typically as severe as they are for the “non-citizen.”
Must have examples, you know!

And here’s a little verse taught to me by a now gone patriot of my acquaintance:

All men lose when freedom fails,
And good men rot in filthy jails.
And those who cried “Appease, appease...”
ARE HANGED BY THOSE THEY SOUGHT TO PLEASE.

Sound familiar??

If Obama keeps pushing, it will!

Yep.

The Gods of the Copybook Headings

AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “Stick to the Devil you know.”

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “The Wages of Sin is Death.”

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “If you don’t work you die.”

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool’s bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

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