Where there’s no difference between art and entertainment
Where we exploit for personal attainment
Where we war for peaceful times
Where the guilty did no crimes
A time of disgrace
For the human race
The Burdened
Savored maiden,
Welcome to the world.
Flavor the tasteful,
Alone, Born,
Going out graceful.
Stoned.
Contract of subjection,
Fake silence,
Full of unwanted attention.
The Conception of Guerillas
The children weep at their deceits
Bloody they bleed in the streets
Looking, longing for sensible solutions
Instead they find the fist of intuitions
What they find
Will make them blind
With anger, rage and disillusion.
Don’t you know that this despair
Will make them mount Meinhofs mare.
Don’t you know the pigs you send
Will make them meet this bitter end
When the stain of blood and pain
Becomes a stain to attain
The mark of hardships of this change
That makes them seem so very strange
When logic seems so blunt and bare
Nothing feels to be so fair.
Momentous Days
The sun bursts bright
In a beautiful daze
The tree works wonders
In wonderful ways
A moment
A minute
A solution
To our limit
A chance
A glance
A change in reality
For all of humanity
Mean Ordeal
Can’t do the deed done to me
Can’t convey the carnage unto thee
Gaze a glance at the free
Dreary dream dreams to be
Something Different
Lead me to the path you seek
The future here is bleak
Shadows seem to see
Its time for us to flee
My Mind
In politics I prefer anarchists.
In the economic realm,
A communist helm.
Socially a hedonist,
Ethically a humanist.
A radical, bisexual.
Feminist intellectual.
Atheist, Anational,
Ridiculously rational.
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