Monday, October 19, 2009

Blair and Leroux

If fairy tales can bring a thought
to teach us all of stench and rot
perhaps those words so penned by men
can wash away the stains of sin
the reddened flag, the crupper winch
will only keep you in it's pinch
it will not lead you to the green
those rolling pastures that you've seen
read on and listen to my tale
of freedom and the great yard sale.

'To Socialism!' the toast
so roaring on
and reverb carried
by crowded throng
the porcine hoof
the blunted snout
rewriting truth
and blotting out

'To Progress!' the call
rolling roughly now
they rape the land
and eat the chow
the furrowed head
considering change
the tweaking cord
the coat of mange

'For Motherland!' the command
so evenly barked
once gathering song
now whippingly snarked
that double chin
and sagging brow
its glutton's sin
who owns us now

'Mutual Ownership!' the goad
and jabbing thrust
to broken side
and shattered trust
those whited fields
and promised wheat
these never came
nor eaten meat

'All Enslaved!' the truth
thus never told
instead of sharing
that communal gold
a leaf rubbed here
and pasted there
the thinnest smudge
to beguile their care

'Hickory Smoked!' the catch
and when so done
so worked to death
under beating sun
the butchers block!
the throat thus slashed
slave blood runs down
at last so cashed

'For Freedom!' the call
that truth so rare
allow the failure
each individual care
own bootstraps straining
upon this soil
for each to achieve
alone they toil

And books of thoughts so fairy-like
begin to take the shape of shrike
their beady eyes, their sharpened beaks
till all we give are weakened shrieks
rise up you fools and tell them no
we'll not have social communes grow
stay free and live, keep free as you die
this all is nothing if you'll not try
be true, be proud, be at liberty now
or you'll be bleeding, that fresh stuck sow.


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