Back in the day

Scarcely half a century ago, The opinions of the masses scarcely counted Each qualm making them hounded Their voices did not count at all And this eventually had to take its toll Their eyes opened to the conflict between freedom and oppression And thus sought a greater cohesion To grab that conflict by the horns And remove the painful past’s thorns They saw the wrong, by making an effort to start a new To make our fates less controlled by few They ensured the nations path be paved by the hearts of its masses To create a land less prone to the oppress d’s curses. To make law accounting for a heart free to make fair judgment A heart free from pointless restriction and commandment A heart free to choose A heart free to dream A heart free But alas, we did not account for the heart of those corrupted A heart weighed down by fear Like lights striking the face of a deer A heart weighed down by hunger remembering the few beans put asunder A heart weighed down by the gun whose holders ensure to give you a good run. If they accounted for what we have become They sure as hell would’ve ensured none of it be done. They should have known, it was just paper For with all the Constitution was thought to provide The conflict of greed and hunger was the unseen divide. It is because of this conflict That the cries of the masses echo ever more sharply Defined by the fiery determination, to destroy society as it has been derived partly. Trampling down on what is present to start a new, Scratching back to the civilization they think they once knew or to a utopia their predecessors hoped to prove but with the sweetness of power seem to have lost their groove. With the sloganeering we hear, Understanding the power their words may evoke Words independent of any real significance the few hope, words whose meaning is so vague 1000 page books barely define it I wonder what the word change may actually mean, if they find it... And thus, we ask ourselves what change truly means. Not forgetting the danger, the instability that radicalism brings, A radical change of power, the yellow gun seems not to see, thinking its bullets will make all the keys and umbrellas flee. Resulting in a rise to office of a government with few groomed to take the reigns Promising a future, even a 40 year old bus partly feigns. The new ungroomed guard will rise until the few left will speak for the masses And thus lead to a time, where the short end of the stick will pessimistically unfortunately and sadly, be held by those same masses. Alas in time history repeats itself and the opinions of the masses will be scarcely counted Each qualm making them hounded Their voice will not count at all And this eventually will have to take its toll Their eyes will open to the conflict between freedom and oppression and thus will seek a greater cohesion To grab that conflict by the horns And remove the painful past’s thorns…….. For conflict in the end breeds conflict With one’s need not being met by the other Surely it’s only together that both can go further Making conflict resolution, truly, peace’s mother. BMS.