Today is the day again where America celebrates it’s freedom.
I don’t have much to say, but I let Chris say something that might be appropriate. I met Chris at a recent home schooling event. He writes the wildest poetry you could imagine. When I tried to read the first poem he forwarded to me I told him that it reminded me of the famous Vogon poetry.
Today I want to present a piece from his moderate era.
Land of the Free…REE-LEE
Do taxpayers pun while paying frivolous fines?
Do marlins still tug against tightening lines?
When pinched by no squirm-room, left choice-less, bereft,
then clap-trap verboseness is all that we’re left. (Seemingly)
The noose of Big Brother hangs ever about
the necks of the masses – We, the People, who pout..
..As waiting in lines with our checkbooks in hand,
we ponder the path of this once wondrous land..
..of Washington, Lincoln and ‘W’ too,
while stonily missing the freedoms we knew,
when God was the giver of all of our rights..
..before lawyer-armies marched in in the night
and put up their fences now seen at the dawn..
We knew it would happen, we knew all along.
We’re cleared to chase evil the ends of the earth,
but we can’t stand against in the Land of Our Birth(?)
The lawyers’ america (sic):One City Hall..
Can’t fight’em, or join’em, go shop at the Mall.
It’s time to hold fast and rise up to the fight..
And pull off the darkness, the long winter’s night.
Recall when as children, they taught us to sing..
My Country ’tis of Thee, Let Freedom Ring?
Remember the soldiers, parades on Main Street?
And picnics and fireworks..Man, it was sweet!
America’s stirring, her proud heart can’t stand
the tyrannies festering all through the land..
We call on The Blood that was shed for all men..
In songs that commit all our voices as One!
Patriots, everyone, Sleepers awake!
Lift up your voices, for Heaven’s sake.
Remember your blessings and answer The Call!
In Christ, Hallelujah! Freedom for all!
Hand on your heart, now sing:
My country ’tis of Thee, sweet land of liberty, of Thee I sing.
Land where my fathers dies, land of the pilgrims’ pride,
form every mountainside, let Freedom ring.