Hateful voices cloud my vision and my heart boils as my ears are pierced with the clatter of kike.
Old remnants of the Third Reich.
Though I was under the impression that these serpents of ceremonial slaughter lost their place in the world a good seventy years ago.
But some still walk that road.
And remain in their volatile mode.
A dead era’s episode.
And yet the darkness follows me and all the rest like a vulture.
And we can’t seem to love one another's culture.
Truthfully, I probably sound like some Hippy.
Trying to relive 1960.
Can I bestow with you a flower upon your gun?
A perfect pacifistic empire of the sun.
And now I’m lost in the disillusion that there may truly be no hope.
When all I’m lookin at is three little boys on a rope.
I’m disgusted by what I see.
What hate prospered in the 20th Century.
In a world of frauds and fakes.
Were prone to so many God awful mistakes.
And I know I can’t be the only soul that shakes.
Witnessing the red rivers humanity makes.
Just look back upon a time.
Before the raps, the riddles and the rhyme.
When our dear earth was pure.
And we didn’t need some clean energy cure.
I’m sincerely unsure.
If its creationism.
Or just sensationalism.
And God damn it why don’t I have all the prescriptions to my problems.
You answer me that oh dear holy father?
No your not even listening, you won’t even bother.
I’m just trying to get back to the days of Cane and Abel.
Before Europe went unstable.
When we had purity.
And some sense of security.
When the Garden of Eden nourished Adam and Eve.
Before the satanic serpent showed his sinful sleeve.
Before Napoleon rose to power.
And burnt down King Louie’s tower.
Before the movie pictures, the poetry and the plays.
Before Woodstock rolled their blunts to blaze.
Before David played the harp, in the name of the Lord.
Before Achilles stayed in Troy, and claimed fame with a sword.
Once upon a day.
Before Industrialization transformed the world to gray.
It is the legacy we chose to sow.
Before Ivory became Ebony's foe.
A long long time ago.
Before Spartacus changed the game.
And claimed Rome's fame.
It was inked into permanence with the theological biblical text.
That put popes to rest, and made sinners confess.
Now TMZ tells us when the sun will set.
And CNN will tell us when Charlie Sheen's upset.
In the age of the Internet.
Now the 21st Century shines new light.
As humanity struggles to find what's right.
And I look around me and all I see is a rumbled America in a new age new era.
Blood stained stripes in the mirror.
My feet are planted in the solemn steps of my red white and blue.
In the star spangled banner that I once knew.
Wealth's to wastelands of the third world war.
Black Golds is what we decided to die for.
And as I stand here.
Shedding my patriotic tear.
In the irony of the truth that we are not slaughterers.
And it's not the legacy of our founding fathers.
To live in this burned out body of battered Earth.
Of where I share my birth.
Because now only death and destruction rule the day.
So why do I stay?
As the ramparts were so gallantly streaming.
Saying their last goodbye to the twilight's last gleaming.
As I behold the silver star crafts leaving.
Colonization opportunities beaming.
As they sail on their voyage.
I'll stay here.
On the only world I've ever known.
While others fly away across the cosmos.
Where nobody knows those.
Who sung the Harlem Blues.
And liberated the Jews.
America the beautiful with your gracious skies.
And your amber eyes.
In the land of the brave.
Where that star spangled banner may yet still wave.
This soil is all of me.
My whole hearted history.
Marauders and mystery.
In this life I was jolly.
But here I stand melancholy.
America, my darling, your the only home I ever knew.
And the truth is, I don’t know what to do.
So this is the story of human creation.
In the dawn of the American nation.
Malcolm X once said that we must always live separate.
Because we never live equal.
Because in a world of distrust.
The white man will never be just.
And every word that he, spews from his serpentine lips, is a word he lied to us.
And ever absurdly, takes us further from thee truth, is another right he denied to us.
We can never live side by side.
As brothers and sisters.
So now I ask this question to you.
Do you believe his philosophies true?
Have the decades since proved him wrong?
Is the 21st Century singing a new song?
Can mortal men change their chord?
Because my feet can't carry me far enough Lord.
And this soul can't stay bound to this mortal world Lord.
And the cold unforgiving hatred in this world is all I've ever known.
Constantly living with sins we can never atone.
And the people of this mortal decoil have called me a Mick, Lord.
And they've called me a Spic, Lord.
But what they don't know Lord is that the blood that runs in these veins is so much more than just black or white.
It's red, white and blue.
It's as green as the prairies and pastures made out of you.
Though some with not as much faith in your creations.
Would have us believe.
It's made out of insanity.
That comes out of genocidal vanity.
And I remember the Great Memphis Pastor.
And his great words of wisdom.
As he preached about the freedom that would rain from the hill tops of Georgia.
Washing away the injustice the world bore yah.
I listened to his speech.
And the future he sought to reach.
I see it in this world today.
And maybe were not so utterly gray.
And I was thinkin about.
How he was quotin Lincoln no doubt.
As he spoke of the fore score and seven years ago.
Singing sweet land of liberty.
America, Tis of thee.
Because no matter what lies remain in society.
Man comes in a thousand shapes and varieties.
You can say it's the texture that lays upon our skin.
But it's not the culprit of our sin.
You can say it a thousand times.
But it's not the colors that commit our crimes.
The Pastor talked about a great American.
Who simply tried to act a Good Samaritan.
Signing the Emancipation Proclamation.
And without hesitation.
The world put two bullets in their heads.
And they were laid down to rest in their coffin beds.
Just like Mahatma Gandhi, Malcolm X and two of the Kennedy's.
The world paid them back for their peaceful obscenities.
Setting flames to their ideological serenity's.
So answer let me ask you now, Lord.
Is my soul sinful and sorrowful and bound for hell?
Because sometimes I feel like you and I are just strangers who just happen to know each other very well.
Is this my fateful destiny that is to be unfurled?
The deepest darkest depths of your dark angel’s underworld.
But Lord I hope that even in the flaws of humanity.
You look past our vanity.
And our constant insanity.
Past the blood stain of Russian Marxism.
Past our racism.
And the corrupt system.
Past our war.
And the Vietnam boys we sent off to do LBJ’s tour.
Please forgive our politically incorrect politicians.
And even our desert storm missions.
Because I don't know if we'll every stop sinning?
And realize that war isn't winning.
Because what we currently consider to be victory.
Its truly sick to me.
It’s time to find our unity.
I have a rhyme in mind for impunity.
To give our sinners their immunity.
Do the heavens cry crocodile tears to appear right?
Or do they truly want us to unite?
Did you make us like this on purpose?
Flawed and inflamed.
The pacifists waiting off to the side, ashamed.
There are so many roads of possibility of yet explored.
Cause I see a day when we can be better Lord.
The centuries are changing us.
Remedies for the hatred and disgust.
Turning old conflicts to dust.
As bombs burst turning the world to vapor.
This pen will forever fix to paper.
Cause I'm spreading the gospel of peace, sire.
Heading towards the race war's ceasefire.
Because one day we may finally see.
The end to this infinite fallacy.
The long awaited day when the bullets are a relic.
Do the war torn not cry for a day so angelic?
A day when we can speak of great history.
And look back on our glorious legacy.
And with honest sincerity.
I title this poem, philosophers of prosperity.
Because the generations remember the names
Lincoln and they remember Doctor King.
For as history as shone.
Their names are carved in stone.
Even after they've turned from ash and bone.
Their legacy will forever sit upon it's holy throne.
And though the assassin's bullet stole these philosophers from us while their song was young.
Their legacy will remain an empire of the sun.
And just like us, the children of our children will sing your songs too.
And forever they'll remember you.
And as long as there are teachers to teach.
And preachers to preach.
Poets to poeticize.
And romantics to romanticize.
The words of great individuals will never go unheard.
And their message will never die.
Because as history would have it their legacy was meant to last.
And nobody will forget the philosophers of the past.