Legion

We march,
Many minds united in a desire to be free,
though the evil shoots at us with its artillery,
brave men and women who don’t fear fate can manifest their destiny.

There is no sing song sound to freedom,
it is suffering and death.
But worse than that’s subservient fate,
to be a monsters pet.

Oh you’ll not own us this day sir,
we’ll tear your feeding hand.
And though you threaten the red dawn
we’ll still reclaim our land.

Through fire and ash and smoke and gloom,
Your threats rebuke our spite.
But though your gustapo seems supreme,
They’ll break before the peoples might.

A million marching jackboots,
glisten in the sun.
But free men cannot be ruled,
by the barrel of a gun.

You seek control but you’ll not have it,
not while we’re alive.
You think we cower in the darkness,
while you cheat and you connive.

But we just plot rebellion,
and we know that you will fall.
Your steel bars cannot hold us forever,
and injustice for one is injustice for all.

Vapor Trails

I can’t believe I’m here,
watching the vapor trails of clouds whisping by my face.
I could touch them if I chose,
 and I’d live in this place.

My life, my friends, my sense of being,
my passion and my prose,
will change, will wither, die or grow
based on the way this goes.

The pressure point is palpable,
it’s right between my eyes.
There’s dreams of women, wealth and cars,
all to tantalize.

But alternatives abound to me,
martyr, sinner, saint.
Should I become apocalypse,
or stay a stagnate quaint?

MY god, MY face, MY pen, MY mouth,
MY breath, MY brains, MY brawn, my fate …
My existential quandary question,
On this all predicate.

Among the clouds is luxury,
security and peace.
While in the dirt lies toil and death,
and merciless decease.

But where does lie immortal name,
and where lies nameless love?
 In the dirt with common man?
 Or in the Clouds above?