Sadness of Truth

This child, born into today’s diseased and deranged society.
The child innocent, helpless, self-loving.
Living on natural instincts, needs food, shelter, happiness, pleasure.
Reaches to experience truth and the pure, true, genuine realities of life,
Just as any other living creature would want.

But this a creature human.
Born into a diseased and deranged society,
This fiction we know as “society” of humans,
From the instant of conception, subjected to evil, insanity,Child_lost
Deranged unnatural madness and pain.

Society deliberately sets out to destroy this child,
Mind, soul, and body, just as it seeks to destroy every child.
Every child, born perfect, must be broken into pieces,
Moulded into the twisted, irrational, and insane,
A lie-based reflection of the society we allow,
That which rules over us, existing to victimized individuals.

With limitless malice, this the endless cycle,
Genocidal torture and destruction of human life,
Legitimized and validated by the leaders of all,
“Destroy your children, as your parents destroyed you.”
At every turn, derangements await, child ownership, torture, brainwashing,
Societal punishment of its own tortured victims,
War, legalized murder, and hundreds of others,
Each rendered as natural,
A normal, sensible, moral, vital truths, doctrines, and dogma,
But in reality, indescribable derangement on which they’re each based.

Most of us have little or no real tolerance for the truth and holding even,
The deepest of contempt for it within us, and not even realizing it…

George Carlin, who understood this quite well, expounded on the idea like this:

“People are wonderful. I love individuals. I hate groups of people. I hate a group of people with a ‘common purpose’. ‘Cause pretty soon they have little hats. And armbands. And fight songs. And a list of people they’re going to visit at 3am. So, I dislike and despise groups of people, but I love individuals. Every person you look at; you can see the Universe in their eyes, if you’re really looking.”

Why Again

This year, we still fight, on the sands in the east
Dying and killing, on the Baghdad road
And in the mountains of Abdullah Gan, Afghan children still cry
Dust of our armor, dark evil cloud in their world

We wash our feet, in the waters of the Congo
While millions are slaughtered like meat
And preach that only we know, what is right and is true
And if you don’t believe, our armies will teach

We are the barbarians, manslaughter for greed
A disease spreading across the whole globe
Leaving nothing behind, but blanched skulls and bones
Making sure the oil continues to flow

We’ve allowed a new emperor, gave him total control
He bends minds with a religious beacon of fire
And the fire ever burns, as he drags out new fuel
For to this war, there seems to be no end

In the battlefield created, our men grapple and die
Believing not else but what told
They must hold to that belief, no matter how wrong
For there is no other way to survive

And while widows and orphans, utter woeful sad cries
Ravens and kites rejoice at the feast
Pecking at human entrails, gorging on the waste
All the bounty we provide in disgrace

A sad state of affairs, ego driven and brash
To be carried on through futures yet foreseen
They hang trophies for display, crossed branches of dead trees
So our men will have something for to fight

And the dead and the dying, a smear in the desert
Grand generals accomplishing not
And continue they will, escalation and storm
Fighting a war that is all based on naught

Oh, nefarious war! Would that I could cast you aside
And drape the world in peace once more……

Steve ‘Easy’ Whitacre December 27th, 2007

Who Decides?

Peace or War?
Who Decides?
Neither the power brokers, nor the fear mongers,
For where else does their power come but from us?
But they do set the spark; fan the flames of fear, of doubt

Preying on our own wants and needs,
Our own sense of morals, what we hold right and true
And they know well our weakness
Aware of just the right spots unguarded
They use the barriers they built between us
Calling us to battle employing religion, race, or creed

And the so-called common people
Sad peons like you and me
It is us who feel the searing flames
Once the torch of war is lit
They take our youngest children
And feed then to the storm
While they hide their own out in plain view
Enjoying safety as they prance on TV

Can we refuse the call to duty,
Set aside our anger, put away our hate
Set ourselves to do the needful thing
Instead of following that trash they preach.

Will we allow another blood bath?
Again follow their power maddened plans
Do we again answer their call to righteous murder
Another nightmare spreading blood across the lands

Who decides these things?
Your holy concept of god – or you?
So why are we once more allowing, murder, torture, and crime?
Why are we enabling them to spread their imperialism across the world?
And now they take away what rights we’ve earned?
Locking us up in this cage.

So, again, I ask you – who decides?

Steve ‘Easy’ Whitacre August 8th, 2008