So quickly we swallow the lines we are fed, hook, line and sinker;
so quickly the ‘truths’ they espouse drive will out the thinker.
From the words spoke so silken from the silver tongued one
to the softly veiled threats when the whole things begun.
With the spectre of Death astride a snorting black horse
to the threat of their sanctions and damnation of course;
they drive us with promises, drive us with our own fear
to a future bright and rosy and they paint it so clear.
“Disobedience is death” they say with sad face;
but obey and you’ll find you live under our grace.
So thought disappears from the drones on the street
and they march all day long to that monotonous beat.
But the future I say lives deep in our life’s dreams
not down on the street, where life’s not what it seems.
But if we just close our ears and hear our own heart
maybe a new beat and rhythm will tear monotony apart.
It’s the beat of our Spirit, the beat of our Soul;
if we dance to it’s tune we might find ourselves whole.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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