The Lay of the Land (Part 2)

V.
 
But where are the marchers, the pipes and the drums?
Back in the schoolrooms, relearning their sums;
Or sleeping with vermin, despised in their slums
Unable to speak more than mumblings.
 
From time to time daylight enbrightens their souls
But most of their time’s spent enslaved to the doles.
The wonder is not the dearth of their goals
But that they’ve not given up on their stumblings.
 
The class struggle’s nothing compared to the fight
‘Tween having it all and doing it right
’cause whether you’re black, brown,
red, yellow, or white
You’re hooked on the sweet rush of buying.
 
But the dollar’s declining; and so is the yen.
From swords we’ll build plowshares and take up the pen
For here is the where, and now is the when
And the choice is ‘tween living and dying.
 
Is winter receding? Is spring on the rise?
Do we hear on the air a new melody?
Do we strive to accept; do we try to deny?
Or awaken our voices to song?
 
VI.
 
Having witnessed, having spoken
Having reached the cusp of change
Standing midst the still unbroken
Deploying troops throughout the range
A new age martyr need not die
But only stand beneath the sky
And sing each soldier’s battle cry
To emanate strength and courage
To keep them true upon the course
— An emissary of the dawn!
 
VII.
 
We shout our faith clearly, without fear or shame
We’ve learned to play music — and not play the game.
We’ve let loose our captors and broadcast their name
That they be captured and cleansed back to purity.
 
It’s a tried and true story we chant here anew
Of a born again many set alight by a few
Remember the Beatles, the Stones, Dead and Who
Back when freedom meant more than security.
 
We’re learning to share in an effort of gain
To harness the sunshine and bring back the rain
To take off our blinders and learn to be sane
Yet maintain self within that conformity.
 
Each singing in glory, permeating the air
Feeling good to be cared for, and better to care
As we mix up the glue and mend the great tear
Finding courage to face the enormity.
 
We don’t need the sages to find peace and love
We don’t need to fight against reality.
We need to learn rhythm and reason and rhyme
And raise our souls with song.
 
VIII.
 
Knowing now his goal completed
Having given all he’d learned
On his private mountain seated
Enraptured in the peace he’s earned
He sings his song clearly, with joy and with fire
It’s all that he has and fulfills all desire
It’s getting him high, and then bringing him higher
And setting his spirit to dancing.
With a beat in his heart
And a song for a soul
Wafting aloft . . .
And he’s gone.
.
.
.
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