Poetry

I decided to post some poetry I have written over the last year or so.

This first poem is my latest, and grows out of interactions I have had with some very well meaning people, who are a bit more conservative than I am

Don’t Be Bringin No New Fangled Thinkin

I got my guns and my color TV
You try to break through, but I can’t hear
It’s out side my theology

You can’t be right. You must be wrong
It’s obvious – only a fool can’t see
You can’t be right – because you don’t think like me.

I like my religion like an old pair of shoes.
Soft, worn out, and comfy
A pliable philosophy that conforms to my views

So don’t be bringin no new fangled thinkin
With your talk of His Grace & His Love
It’s all about no cussin, no druggin or drinkin
And earning a spot with the big man above

____

I got my Bible and a flag in my hand
Don’t even question American intention
Fall in line – it’s the law of the land

Our God is red white & blue
In God We trust is our battle cry
He watches over us but he don’t care about you

God is on our side and he carries a stick
He rides shotgun in our M1 tanks
As we destroy your village brick by brick by brick

So don’t be bringin no new fangled thinkin
With your talk of His Peace, and His Love
Its about American interest and American lives
It’s been sanctioned by the big man above

No don’t you be bringin no new fangled thinkin
About a God we can’t wear like a glove
We don’t want no God who won’t fit in our box
To whom power means nothing – Only unselfish Love

________________________________________

This next poem just kind of came pouring out shortly before the election last year. I still voted for Obama and I am still a supporter but some times I ask my self “Have we been duped?”

The Conjurer

In this our hour of trial and fire

upon the stage steps a man…

To calm the masses ire

Along the road a sign so clear

but we move so fast. We can not see

It says Our Time Is Near

A velvet glove an iron fist

He speaks the truth but with a twist

Just enough to shut us up and shield us from our fears

What to do we few who see

That things are not quite what we thought

In this… the land of the not so free

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