Wednesday, April 22, 2009
The Free World
The oath of office held to heart
Take thy vow and hold the beacon
Upon the shoulders of conscience.
Of the people, for the people
And by the people lest ye forget.
Nothing to fear but fear itself
Yet fear was your mantra and
Might was your reason.
Power is an opiate, to wield it
Is to lance the vein
And corrupt the heart and soul.
Indulge in the sound of your own voice
So that no others can be heard.
Surround thy self with yaysayers
Who tell you only what you want to hear.
Feed your ears with fat
No gristle for which to chew.
Question only those who question you
And no doubt appears in the looking glass.
Perversion of power grows like puss
Festering in the sphere of your own influence.
And as the wound grows hide it
Through the veil of deceit.
Shower fear upon the masses
Filling their vessels like
Cups of Reverend Jones' elixir.
But all do not thirst.
And some still live to question.
And through the voice of dissent
Hope still conquers fear...
Three Word Wednesday offered these: Deceit, Indulge, Oath