Viva la Rebellion
She sees in the dark
like a bat out of hell
An echo in the park
She preys like a spell
The glow of the moon
is no match for her shadow
Her cold, bleeding heart sheds more light than the towns
That she stalks
And she mourns
And she summons to battle
I’m in rare form
My form is so rare
that no lie is too great to embrace my warfare
No fire can make dust of the bombs that I drop
And no thief in the night can take swift with my plot
I’m a renegade
I give swords to your slaves
Chop it up before dawn
then give bones to your graves
I’m a hurricane
I blow hard through the chill
I’ll do it when I wanna do it
I’ll do it when I’m done
I’ll do it when I’m sick and tired
I’ll do it when it’s done
I’ll do it when I’m all burnt out
And my legs are tired
And taking that first step feels like a marathon
without breakfast or a bottle of water
I’ll do it tomorrow
I’ll do it the next day
There’s a knot in my gut the size of my fist. I try to ignore it but it cries out like a mother bird in distress. Much like the premonitions that warned me against the crooked path I doomed myself to take. Seems the hell I’ve known is mercy compared to the hell that is to come.
The whole world is a human centipede. Battered sheep yearning for deliverance from their cold-hearted shepherd. I often wonder what mindblowing epiphany will compel the sheep to shed their wool and become lions treading through the fields of rebellion. It’s not enough for the sheep to know their shepherd is up to no good. They need to want to flee from his care. Herein lie the wall that won’t crack…
This is not a joke
And it’s not an illusion
This is not a coincidence
And it’s not collusion
This is the real deal baby
We’re gonna light the fire
Please, just let it be
My one heart’s desire
You are the lock
And I Am the key
I want to open that door
So please
Just let it be
Twitter… The call of the birdbrainz… Pecking ground of America’s first functionally illiterate President… As if one needs further reason to question the logistics of using Twitter for any purpose other than child’s play, allow me to elaborate on this Nirvana of disillusionment.
It’s the land of memes, one-liners and hashtag games. Where intellectual debate involves reiterating disinformation like mockingbirds, and the smartest of the flock are the birds who stir the most wind up other bird asses.
If I had a million dollars I could finally set me free. I would have the independence I never thought I’d see. I would wake up every day without a worry on my mind as I accomplished all those little things I often toss aside.
Our main priority for this revolution is to demonstrate how community ownership provides greater prosperity than capitalism ever will
We boldly invite all to join us on the battlefield in one last daring attempt to claim The People’s throne and bring all truth to light
You take me for a fool
When I don’t suit your accord
And you call me a rebel
When I don’t bow to your sword
You revel in the downfall of all you disapprove
You ridicule my judgment
And perverse my every move
You scapegoat and dismiss the problem at hand
You never ask questions when you don’t understand
I lived a life that you can’t comprehend
And I lived a life that no fool can withstand
I survived, And Hey, Time goes on
But my memory is stained
And I can’t move on
For I have realized my purpose in this half-cocked destiny
And my purpose don’t involve renouncing my choice to be Free
Look at all the birds
Every shape, color, size
Scratching at the surface
Pecking at the lies
Adorning the walls with excrement
Every day is a holiday
Every day is the same old story
The plot thickens
But none will sway
Where have all the flowers gone?
Where are all the vines?
Where are all the pretty birds?
Where are all the signs?
