Contrary and equal
Parts and idealism
Made up to separate
And divide
When the hope of Unity
Is less alive
The rules of opposites
And equal
We have to understand that
Life is lived
Not in uniformity
But understanding and debate
So move forward
To save the state
Ask
For the mask
LASIK on your eyes
Wishing into the skies
With mirrors in hand
Upon a vital crust of land
A mask for the days
And nights
Kept cold on the side
A reliable mask
Creates a classic condition
Of diversion
Western words
Fly west like
Western birds
Up to half
From one third
Upon the sun
Lies a soul
Relaxed and combed
With history
Undone
The franchise virus
Growing from the roots
Of a dead cypress
Cold pressed nightmares
Held up by titans
Each man has a turn
To flame the words
Caught up on the wings
Of drunken birds
By night
And by day
What the naysayers say
Is the franchise lies
Being manufactured day
And night
I, the unpleasant peasant
Making my songs and words
Ringing out notes
Two flights of a bird
Have notes and words
Making hope up as I go
When the world tries
To hold down
The ones that need to go
What I know
As unpleasantries go
A poor writer
Such as I
Only knows
Critical crown
Lifted up
From the ground
Every single person
From the top down
Cried when we watched
How it came to
A heap on the ground
Unusual as it had been
To see the wickedness of many sins
Compiled into the critical crown
Lying on the dusty ground
Delight night
In the middle of the afternoon
I woke up late
But rose too soon
Licking the cereal
From the crest of
The spoon
Take me in early
Take me in at noon
Delight night
And evening moon
Upon the discovery of power
People change
They plan rearrange
They insist on more
Rather than less
Have no hope of giving
In times of distress
How can a pebble of power
Turn into a stone
Cold
Heart
Automated data
Calculated
And summed
Below
Our fingers buzz
In a day
And age
When the brain
Is a reduction
To a machine
Of production
For
The hesitation feign
Gets no satisfaction
From action
Or helping others
Just in waiting
Sitting
Conflating the truth
In a soundproof booth
Hanging hopes of the people
In a line to dry
While we all are getting older
He just
Can’t try
A Cup of Songwriting 