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BANG BALLS
FREEDOM OF SPEECH NOTHING SHOULD BE IMPOSED
IDEAS NOT LEECHED ONLY CREATIVELY COMPOSED |
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Jasmine
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Monday, August 18, 2008
Socratic Wisdom. As they crack their whips We cower in fear. They shout, they command and demand And so we have thus learnt to subscribe. They have learnt how to bribe At the most opportune of times As purposeful as a well thought crime; Constitutions amended, laws adjusted Just to have men arrested. As brave men sacrifice (they often forget the thin margin between bravery and stupidity) they often pay a hefty price Leaving behind not their legacy, But many, a fallacy. They preach and teach calling those in power a leech While forgetting to look in the mirror they soon digress. A noble and worthy cause - was once their cause Degenerate into that of slander, defamation and all personal vendetta. Not all men were made to be revolutionists, And certainly not all men were made to lead. Melancholy is what the state is in a form of stasis What different are we from Vladi or Estragon? We still await our political Godot. For what we have now is Pozzo (both the blind and arrogant) The cycle of recurrence continues. A fine line exists between a freedom fighter and a terrorist; likewise a dictator and an effective leader - Was Che Guevara intrinsically evil? Was Sadam really bad? Now we should ask how Lee or Chee would fair. Possibly as bad as Blair? For one is a megalomaniac and the other a neurotic What future is there to speak of? Power does not fear rebellion But apathy and disgust That isn't met with opposition But a silent deposition (found in the heart). Monday, August 11, 2008
Altitude of Danger. As hope dangles from a string, The slightest of winds can bring it down Peace disrupted harmony put asunder Under the terror of a gust The gust - what disgust. Life unfolds vertically up into the clouds Where the end is but just blue But we see not that, in that hue lies peril - infinity due We climb and climb to see that we ascend with no eventual end. But miss a rung and woosh! - we go through. On our bottoms we land on the hard rocky land Where sticks and stones can't break my bones; but words can That simple word of torture - hope |
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