Propheteering

So many worlds so far away,
so many nights before this day.
Our follies many, our memories few
of the types of evil that good men can do
(the types who listen to what I say)

the true songs of Freedom
have yet to be sung
but we dance anyway
and we dance everyday
to the silent beat of hum-drum

the words that I sling
have already been slung
by each Mother and Child
and Beast that is Wild
A song sung by all that can sing

what I fear most is silence
(the kind made of compliance)
where no one will see
that which all can see
and the only crime is defiance

What I cannot accept is to sit and pray
down on my knees, begging for a new day.
what I hope for is truth
(the kind that blows off the roof)
only then will I sit and stay

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