Hanging paper…

They hang paper from white washed bill boards,
then string their words together like barbed wire.
Allowing them to ingratiate all subliminal hordes,
trapping those with an awareness in it’s quagmire.

The leaders have rolled inside their cosy webs,
finding comfort as opposed to our terminal terrors.
We as citizens are but numbers, treated as plebs,
blown around on big brothers wind like feathers.

We don’t need the high flyers to help find an escape
just gather the feathers to trim our maiden flight.
Throw away their plans, let our own take shape,
script our own freedom writ long into the night.

Were born from nature’s womb not religion’s god,
with intelligence the gift man should never waste.
Parry all arguments against, from here or abroad,
let our people find the truth, let them have a taste.

Once tasted, surely a recipe they’ll learn to enjoy,
sweet on the lips of everyone colour or creed.
Learn our young to build, create, never destroy,
in an ambience of simple pleasure, never greed.