This slave-like mentality,

quite simply the reality of our

warlike principalities

 

whose brazen nationality is

worn thinly by brutality

fledged from personalities

borne into this cursed generation

 

forged from hundred years

of bloody sweat and salty tears

the salinity of repression

which tastes so very sweet to those 

who care not to care

about stepping on the little man's toes

 

the little man who,

with the inaudible frequency 

of a flea, or a fly, 

or some other succubi

was sent from God fearing farthings

of a world better yet left untouched

 

too foreign is the concept

of his gently whispered thought

to the minds and mouths

of men doing all too much

never accomplishing enough 

 

busy hands, and idle minds

embody the rabid raucous

of a rabble-rouser's pledge 

 

of men who assail

the illogical, the unfathomable, the indefinite 

like it all means less than nothing

in the greater schemas of life

 

squelched -- the vocality

that once bellowed bright

for reasons not yet condemned

to the resting place of pieces

and the silent slaughtering of more vivid imaginings

 

Yes, now too only ashes remain

and the bitter din of 

half-hearted men, who 

will do just as they're told, 

without question 

 

even when it costs them

a life, or a limb,

or maybe two of their own 

 

men who swooned over the simplicities

afforded by the elysium of great fortunes,

amassed from ideas which can swallow a man whole

and assimilate their fortitude

for the greater good of all

 

is this lie worth your life?

whispered the little man,

who knew much better than

to believe just what he was told

 

and still he beckons on, 

with slightly broken song

a dissonance perfumed solely by

one who has since been freed..