from solstice to solstice

tsunami to rainbow

from mountain to valley

wherever I go

I’m here

and I’m there

no fear,

I’m aware

that straw men

may scare crows

but nobody knows

what I know

live a short life

but die slow

or leave a long life

with only one blow

but either way

some may say

he ran away

so we hope and pray

that as seasons change

we find it odd

that the sun still rises

and we call it God

and the days get short

and the days get long

and I’m leaving port

won’t you sail along

help me sing this song

about stars and sky

it won’t be long now

before we die

and the third eye’s opening

and tears fall down

creating mighty rivers

where our memories drown

sinking down

to hell and back

they are resurected

but the Gods must have lost track

of souls they once selected

and projected images float lost

in space and time

gone without a trace

preserved with salt

and lime

and a dime for all your thoughts

a dollar for your worries

the joker sits and laughs

as humpty-dumpty hurries

and he’s sitting on the edge now

starting to look down

as the king’s men rape and pillage



and town

and the clown loads his musket

and fires a shot

and down goes humpty-dumpty

and it requires a lot

to fix him up

and we don’t have much time

it’s been a year

since I last licked the salt

and squeezed the lime

and the chimes

are making music

blowing in the wind

with the answers

gone with cancer

that for too long hid

and the kid must struggle on

to find the point of life

tie me down

and cut my heart out

here’s a butter knife

and with breakfast

on the table,

stable filled with flies

he wasn’t busy being born

so now he dies

and cries ring out

from volcano depths

and ocean floors

ripped from Pele’s bosom

to South East Asian wars

could have died in Vietnam

or twenty years from now

the fields will soon grow over

rust will eat the plow

and in here and now

I’m stuck


it’s sinking in

so it went

and so it goes

can’t let the scarecrow win

and the sins 

of founding fathers

have left us tainted


bloody rocks

and bloody crops

and bloody hands that toil

and bloody oil

and blood, it boils

and missionary spoils

and there is here

and here is there

and wrap my heart in foil

and I’m the tinman

I’m the lion

but we are all the lambs

our uncle takes your land

and resources

and leaves you begging grams

and it’s a scam

and we see through the pomp

and circumatance

lets take the power back

leave nothing else to chance











About soitgoes1984

I was born and raised on land stolen from the Pocumtuc. I now live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, on land that was stolen more recently, from the Hawaiians. I am addict, struggling to kick the habit of fossil fuel. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
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