Where You May

Where you may sit a child,

Upon his rightful place,

Learning the culture of his creed,

The cult of his faith,

To be the image of his predecessors grace,

They turn to smiling faces,

Whom seem to shallow their traces,

Of roots and the riddle.

Burning upon a dream,

Of come to's and the throws,

Before the pop pop hits up those,

With eyes to their sky,

Not for meaning, or true treasure,

Nothing but the thought of pleasure,

That process pretender and institution alike,

Bang, clang and the hits of the fire start to work,

Far out, and reach the barrier of illusion and belief,

Right there, blocking the truth, seems so easy to speak,

Dividends in receipt for deceit,

National irregret, propaganda push, little somethings having to plush,

For the squeezers of mum and dad's cush,

Into the bag of the underhand that stays to the waking hour,

Saddening and depleting the sons and daughter,

Serpents succour, and men to the slaughter,

Forever homes, less than average, need five degrees and a half block of explosive,

Just to get my message,

Written across the sky,

Illuminous streams of anti,

For the true believers to enjoy.