Protest Song; The change of guard

Has humanity made t' world less fun to play 
Do the trees chatter loud in protest songs 

Encouraged by the winds that blow  
With banner flags and protest songs 

With stones thrown to overthrow tyrants 
Burning effigies as ritual to the cause 

Has man made the world less fun to play 
Neighborly words shared by the others 

Species wandering if we as human 
Are more parasitic in being, to hunt 

Cannibalistic in emotions, to bully the weak 
Watching our young ones decline in dejection  

Quenching the internal light that enshrines joy 
Set deep in our core, blowing cold, cold and mean 

Has humanity made the world less fun to play 
Do the trees chatter loud in protest songs 

Drowning In My Sleep

I spent forever getting upgrade, remade; sharpened nails, ready to cut down glass roofs and let out rage... swimming up from the depths so deep.  I'm drowning in my sleep, it's not just all in my head like a mirage. I am done with the daily dose of pills, society pushes down my throat; to keep me, keep you, keep us sleep walking, like the matrix. Birds spinning round above my head making me feel all dizzy, disgruntled, I see all in physical forms of pretense they pretend on false promises, they lecture, they pledge to.

They say aim high stars above and I am looking past, ready to fly past, G 6 in my back view, wings blowing fast into accelerations gained, it's light speed to destiny aimed for; then like a nightmare, boggy man, they come snatching platforms quicker, faster than we ever build them, made them, furiously fearful. They sit paranoid,  fearing to share  to see us, change clothes and become company men like them; not like them, it's a class state. It is a class state to keep the status quo.

The banker smiles like the demon's son on the devils advocate, playing drinking games with my blood thirst. I'm bleeding, he is drinking; money rules the world and it is evil at its core, so the big man sits with, evil wrapped up, around to gauge and the poor suffer pain of suffocating stress, watching the fat pig getting fatter on our children's blood as breakfast. Skinny man, skinny bone, kids looking alien, skinny head, mothers heart, torn out with  lungs still attached by the devils hands held out with laughter's on pride; he laughs in barbaric ways, in excitement; man them starving while the Ak 47 speaks loud, getting louder on battle grounds, fields tearful theaters, bodies dropping like rain fall pouring, it's messy out there rated PG 18, I am bleeding.

I am peeling off layers like onions with liquid in my eye's fountain, and this is just the start,  just starting; already my eyes are filled full with tears of this nonsense we justify bullshit  it's absurd; someone, somebody, anybody hold me back before I go raging. I am fuming on observations, based on reality checks, institutions built on corruptions, like castles on quick sand. It is all a fools game, fools fooling fools, on following fools stands; standards on the best dressed in ceremonies sat in seminars to discuss falseness,  on repeat sentence, on repeat play, on repeat play, on repeat play, rewind to replay. 

The best rather be left sleep walking, reality too hard to handle and the rest are left coked up drunk to numb the edge to want to think to know past the bullshit, sex games rules, religion, drug games rules, no difference left to see between the far right, far left, communist, fascist  and dictatorship rules. The same leaders in camouflage change clothes, schooled in the same school of thought, with no notion, concept of the grass root's pain; sipping on wine, tea and biscuits in meaningless, mindless, while-wind meetings of agenda, pledges and promises, false promises made, I am bleeding as witness forced to witness.

Peeling off layers, peeling off bullshit and this is just the start; the poor no longer able to tell the difference between politician's lies and truth. Its blurred, its greed in green eyes in fine suits, this is pain of knowing and it is wide spread from the four corners of the world like epidemic on invasion from sneeze like cold flu.

Companies on direct debt, quick to snatch quoting contract clauses, but slow to refund in mistakes made, dodging taxes on technicalities and bonuses, while the poor are trapped to pay on throats and daggers; slashed, they are all friends of the same clan of greed. So who police the policy makers, the judges robe is empty in encasement  of  moral value on earth, the comedian changed sides no longer making jokes of the men with riches; just ask who is in charge and they show faces, show of hands, coming out from the same holes of comfort, their colourless, colourless  colourless, colourless 

To talk debt on clauses, politics is all a game now; money men pulling strings, their voices stronger than society's call in need of fair play. It is money talk and the rest march past and they have plenty to talk with, talk about so they make up the stage and make up the rules of engagement and we are suppose to play against them on fair play, fair grounds.

Then I woke up from sleep walking or is it up from drowning in my sleep, or is it going back to sleep in daylight on hypnotized states. Drowning in my sleep, I am drowning in my sleep, I am drowning in my sleep.

Blind Society

Eyes sees shut on site seen

Deaf  heard senses felt void

Society on voluntary blindness 

I Cry Around Tables

And there they were, the  forefathers 
How I remember them
All sat around tables
Notion of dreams had


Sankofa this is our land to be built on
Heritage, this is our destiny
Dreams, of a united continent


Colourful riches
Of this here land seen in
Reflections of what we wear
This is our fabric, exciting 


This is our clay our land 
And ants  build sky scrapers with it
Birds leaves architecture on trees
And acacia trees stands with majesty


Watch the cream of the sun
Shower the land with beauty
On sun set stands, such bless 
Paradise here on earth

And others will
And they do envy
For just a fraction
Of what we have, we own

But on our leaders 
Heads went missing, heedless 
On the want of greed
Of selfish, self indulgence 

And notion in motion
Some times, too often
Goes without directions
So I sit and cry around headless tables