Asphyxiation Nation

We the people By the people For the people Suits stand suitably lining the streets as the freedom fighters Fine and fined stand fighting for fingertips to touch fingertips And lips to touch lips like other lips touch other lips But that’s all different because Two lips of the same kind Cannot count the same as two lips from different kinds Except when those two lips from different kinds Are different colours. And luscious lashes of a lover quickly turn to whiplashes from another When the lovers are of different colours. But we’ve passed that past It was just a passerby Of an era and now We the people By the people For the people So say some selected few forging the proper paths to be traveled by Because a man and a woman can be pure and holy but A man and a man or a woman and a woman, well That’s a horse of a different colour. But, no, this is different from colour. Don’t taint times with times gone by That was different Different as two mates should be Prim and Proper Pre-formed Paths of Primrose Yellow exist in a wood and damnit Will be taken Let’s look high and low at the facts here: Love is love and is most lovely (mostly) Love leads to lust and lust leads to, well A stork of course Which whips its wings against whirls of wind and ushers in new thoughts and times Surely love cannot be love when lust leads only to more love as opposed to Procreation? We the people By the people For the people Must make more people because that’s what the world needs More people And yet Sickly souls slide sickles of judgement between couples When no crime of commitment could be committed And crass cries of potent “persons” Penetrate the penned confessions of partners parted, Peace is a patented design that belongs to some and not others, and The privilege of holding a loved one’s hand Can be considered a privilege? We the people By the people For the people Freedom fighters fine and fined stand fighting for fingertips to touch fingertips And lips to touch lips like other lips touch other lips But sick slick twists of power pour hasty propaganda in the streets And Soon Someone Slips-- And bare backs bear scars of cruelty Cringing As crimes of hate coat our cradles And when the stork whips its wings against whirls of wind It will bring forth a tail already told Times are not tainted by times gone by but rather They the people By some people For a people Love’s labours lost on leering leeches Siphoning sweet nectars from the creases of pages once lined with happiness and Hearts hidden in sleeves spun from fearful fibers A secret segregation of unspoken urges to serve an agenda of asphyxiation And when did your suits and the suits of freedom fighters become so different anyway? And when did the thoughts of one generation become the thoughts that were meant to stay? And Who says They the people Are a different people Than we the people?