To northern parts the wild geese flew,
And Indians tribes took their cue.
The weather turned a sultry warm,
And honey bees began to swarm.
The winds died down to breezes slight,
And crickets ceased chirping at night.
Dogs chased tails then cried and howled,
And all the seas smelled wholly fouled.
I should have known those disparate days,
With the world in a stark malaise,
A catastrophe would come soon,
Yet most of all it was the moon...
That morbid color of the moon;
Not gray or white but pale maroon,
Was thought to be, by those who knew,
An atmosphere that's gone askew.
And later on, as I recall,
The scientist informed us all
That the moon had turned just a bit,
And slightly shortened it's orbit.
Oh, it was natural, so they said;
And no reason for us to dread
Some fearsome, evil, awesome plan
To somehow change the fate of man.
But as I drank a beer that night,
And watched the moon's once cherished light,
And let my thoughts and spirits soar
Over old tales of quaint folk lore.
Tales of lost spirits of the night
That used the moon's facetious light
To heighten forms of magic art,
And summon demon's evil heart.
But still, the moon revolved in turn,
And revealed for us to discern,
An orb of light with gleaming core
That glittered as it touched the shore.
The scientists said once again,
"There is no fear this is the end,
It's just an atmospheric sight
That shows upon the earth each night."
By then the moon doubled in size,
And vastly filled the evening skies.
Its sweet orange color brought to mind
The inner pulp of pumpkin rind.
All seven seas soon shifted tides,
And turned the oceans on their sides.
The winds blew in a constant storm,
As city dwellers cried alarm.
Our government, in thoughts sublime,
Determined that it might be time
To launch a craft to look and see
What phenomenon this might be.
The craft rose high into the air,
As we, on the earth, watched and starred.
It cruised almost effortlessly
Into God's silent, spacious sea.
Then in the wee hours of dawn,
That which we had feared all along,
Came to be in the early light;
A burning, awesome, stellar sight.
A bolt of light launched from the moon
Brought our brave shuttle its doom,
And destroyed that, our precious pride;
To prove that all who knew had lied.
Had lied from fear and jealousy;
Had lied because of greed you see;
Had lied for power by design;
Had lied to keep us all in line.
Slowly the moon revolved and turned
To show great cities lights that burned
Upon the plains and purple seas,
That came to sight by slow degrees,
And out came fighters of a sort,
That according to news reports,
Were for defense of lunar seas,
And not to threaten us or tease.
Hovering in the moon's strange light
That shown so bright most every night,
They hung like ornaments in air
In an overt and frightening dare.
The President and all his boys,
Aimed and postured expensive toys,
Then bid the public to behave
And implore the U. N. to save;
To save us all from grief and harm,
But first we all must just disarm,
And remember well the party line;
"Surrender now and for all time."
For only in this way, you see,
Can one and all at last agree
To support the U.N.'s forces,
And herd like cattle and horses.
Then there appeared, in pale blue vans,
Forces disposed to give commands;
And with the dandies dressed in blue
Came strange invaders, two by two.
Slim of form and pale of feature,
Came each lanky, smelly creature
To oversee the U.N.'s plight;
And report to the moon each night.
From house to house they came to say,
"Have you got any guns today?
May we search and see for ourselves?
Our instruments detect strange smells."
From home to work they follow us,
Shadowing each small, shuttle bus
To help us in this friendly game,
That we may all act just the same.
Some patriots might meet and talk
About the times when one could walk
As he chose; when, why and where,
And no one, lawfully, could care.
But some say that we're better off.
No plans to make; no time for golf.
Just work and make your daily bread,
And come home tired and go to bed.
No choice to make for God's own sake;
No wife to keep, nor kids to make.
One duty only is our plight,
For all to work from morn to night.
I must say though, through all these years,
It burns my eyes to restrain tears
For the free life we might have saved,
But now resides in pauper's grave.
Is a life devoid of all pain,
That lacks decisions, worth or gain;
That walks a witless, mindless path
To be our final epitaph?
A life with choices ready made
Is worse than living a charade.
A life where freedom doesn't ring
Is surly a most empty thing.
Like a body without flesh;
Like a rain that isn't fresh;
Like a heart without a soul;
Like a child out in the cold.
But still a fire burns in my breast,
To fight for freedom, I confess;
The only life I care to lead
Grows like a germinating seed
That I believe will sprout anew,
A life that's meant for me and you,
And on that day I'll live again
To thank my God and pray, amen!
