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Poetry
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Quality and Conscience
"Unseen"
Glen Still
The sign of the times is that the world has gone fucking crazy
The depleted minds with no imagination on how to be free
The rusted trinkets of contraband lying in the wilderness of despair
The clock keeps hunting like jackals surrounding the lion to steal its kill
We got into a situation with the authorities who said we had to leave or be jailed
We got into a dispute with the populous 50% with us the other 50% against us
We bought into a house of cards where sharks gave us no choice but to play our hand
But the dealers keep slipping one-eyed jacks from the bottom of the deck
Each one of us a tale of woe with no better reason than to hope that Dr. Hyde is better than Mr. Jekyll
Each one of us the measure of the other without benefit of anything but standing against the status quo
Each one of us arm in arm handcuffed from every side with busted heads and bruised egos
The Mayor doing his dirty work under the canopy of darkness cloaked in riot gear
The signs of the revolution seem like detours in the flight path of apprehension
The mental psychology of reverse application with voices inside our heads
The answers to the questions never asked because the line to the front has been blocked
The embargo on this insurgency has been ongoing since the day of the first dollar bill printed from the Federal Reserve
We the people are many with 50/50 not being enough to amount to much other than cannon fodder
Things have got to change by using the weapons of suppression against those that don’t want change
Implementing the strategy of being wise as a serpent - gentle as a dove
A few us never stepping forward but moving through the crowd of opposition
Unseen
