Lazaretto
The rich man's impoverished blues
Light and darkness, day and night. Governing the boundaries of what is fitting and right. A proper time frame for all of our happenings. An appropriate season for all we accomplish. Most prefer the daytime, while some the night. One tends to be likened with goodness, and the other with fright. But neither good nor evil should be ascribed to either. No usefulness in seething over the balancing of our beings. Night and day, as with rest and play. Each has its proper place, when framed with good taste. As we apply moderation to our manifestations, pondering these new and lofty revelations. And I have wrestled with reservations, in regard to shallow laudations. Misplaced theological ambitions, have confused the direction of modern day society. And have spawned much derision. In many cases it has caused a collision of good versus evil. Esoteric law givers who reign legality upon the people, all the while barricaded within their archaic steeples. Moderation driven by love, should rather have ruled the day. Then a unity of our brothers would have made its display. For piety did rule in it's hey day. Prudish pugilist's who beat down the wicked "heathens." Religious scheming's were unfurled upon the world. And the abundance of lavish churches left no bread for a hungry people. So let's call Evil what it is and stop beating around the bush. Whatever title you espoused upon yourself, has little merit when you've left the people in poverty. Though you were christened to be their protector. There have been many a monument erected in your name, while transients and Derelicts gather there to "blaspheme" what you "gave." Instead of teaching the people a trade, that they would be fruitful for a lifetime, you gave them a food stamp. And now around the blocks they form long lines. Entitlement. "I am owed," has become the chant of the people. And they have formed a mob of unrestrained, lazy, and sycophantic criminals. They have bit the hand that has fed them, and swore they did not know it was a monster. In complacent naiveté, swallowing every plate of lies that was served them. But in their disenfranchised servitude, instead of taking higher ground and challenging the monster, who has kept them uncrowned. They chose to become like the ugliness, which they so loudly and vehemently protested. Vitriolic peasants, whose plea's are scoffed at. And so, they've demanded more for less. An exercise in garnishing wages, which they once knew to be bereft. Instead of theft, they've called it redistribution, and have demonized the wealthy. A gluttonous smorgasbord of poison, which ravages their bodies. "Oh poor me," they cried. And so loud and with frequency that their petition is heard in the heavens. "I will not work for what is owed me," they incessantly bitch and moan, and demand for their "positions," to be elevated. All the while having surrendered the inheritance of their humanity, the responsibility of their eternity, and in dire need of holiday in the infirmary. Both King and vassal alike have multiplied a list of atrocities. Compiled on a ledger, for a court of law to find verdict. Modernity is in dire need for champions of social justice. To crack and crumble the status quo, a bastion of social norms, with which we comfort ourselves to death. And it's furtive origins have driven the most brilliant of mind's mad. Who among us is willing to shake the foundations of these aforementioned establishments? A concrete paradise of charity, to house the huddled masses in a parking lot. So let this be our day, and this the hour, when we rise from the ashes, and restore all which has been devoured. And though our palate's have been soured, let us reacquire a taste for good. To fight for the restructuring of our society, and brick by brick, build a better world. So who is with me? Men at arms, take up your weapons in hand. And let us build a kingdom, which will usher in eternity for every woman, child, and man.
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The rich man`s impoverished blues
The rich man`s impoverished blues
