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David Lester Young

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Wailing Bag Pipes Of San Francisco
by David Lester Young

Monday, December 19, 2005
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by David Lester Young
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The beauty of the free mind upon a poetic dream of pure fantasy and reality.

Oh bag pipes of Patriot Acts, art has succumbed.
Music silenced upon grave-stone faces of politics.
Earth quaking Washington, judge’s of conformity.
Wail, oh wail winds, on winged Republican freedom, far
Right gravity, religious wealth ‘n society’s social standing.

There are no more banned books but book burnings.
Libraries are recording free speech liberal offenders,
Scarlet ‘L’etters denying Americans corporate membership.
Fraternities of devout cloned puppet brainwashed followers.
Mr. President, chairman of the board of corporate government.

Oh wail San Francisco, Bush’s going to treat you to promises,
Like the one, he gave New Orleans, on his War On Poverty.
Then bulldozing them for extreme conservative contracts,
Leaving them homeless spread around without food stamps.
San Franciscans never leave the city of love on any earthquake.

Let the bagpipes wail for Bush, to stay away from tranquility.
Let him LIE somewhere else, upon intelligence of Patriot Acts.
Let him take His wars somewhere else on Fox News propaganda.
Let the banshee cry her way into the streets of Washington neglect.
Let San Francisco declare it own Declaration of Independence.

Green Tea Party, People Party anything but Republican or Democrats,
America must regain its liberated voice from the dictators of politics
Moderators in principles of Constitutional diversities of opinions.
Music of the instruments covering San Francisco into the biggest band,
Musical freedom heard around the world in a peace song of unity.

Oh, wail words, wail, to never be silenced by secret political agendas.
Let the Pyramid of Truth be the foundation of all American values.
Let its tip light up in red that bleeds in humanities blessing onto others.
May a million candles spread from its base of a loving San Francisco,
But be careful that all that fire will light up Washington’s compassion,
For they might declare a Patriot Act uprising and try to extinguish it.

Note: It would be nice that from the City Light Bookstore of first amendments, a candle could be lit to be shared upon a trail to the Pyramid of TRUTH that banning humanity in Patriot Acts is un-American and un-Patriotic. That the New Year must bring in the freedom and democracy, that we are exporting to other countries, along with our jobs, that as Americans we need to be employed by a Constitution and politicians that claims all His people. I could even see the New York Times Square upon candle light of a New Years ball. I could see the French Quarter joining in with ghostly lights remembering those that wail, upon all the bands marching together in that blue harmony of New Orleans feelings. Oh, the poet in me that one’s words could create magic like wildfires, the dreams that no one must ever extinguish upon American soil of free thinkers. If you are a dreamer, email this and add your verse of freedom, it will be your own special candle of independence.

D.Lester 12/19/05 ©
Terminated poet, somewhere in America not on company time. poem for the ride upon America’s spirit

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Reviewed by Tinka Boukes 12/20/2005
A high five for this one!!

Well done!!

Love Tinka

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