The Soaring Birds of Freedom
A POEM
The soaring birds of freedom
Fall to the earth in yellow streams of fire,
Igniting the dry autumn grass
As Dionysus dances in the field
Where civilization dies
In a multitude of lies,
Where we drink to our prosperity
While the children yet unborn
Are waiting for the sword.
The olive trees are burning
In the grove where wise men spoke of truth;
Their voices now are silent
As the books of wisdom crackle in the fire,
And the words are soon forgotten
But a New Age is begotten
Of a liberated mankind:
A computer-programmed, corporate financed,
Universal brotherhood of
Peace and Love.
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