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Sociopolitical

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In This Time of Need   
The world needs  shelter,  
food,  
love.   
We need shelter  but aren’t we just sheltered?  Filters on  television, internet, books, magazines.  “Tommy, close your eyes  the war is on the news again.”  World, close your eyes  close your eyes  pay no attention to  the dying children in  Sierra Leone,  Vietnam,  Cambodia.  They need shelter.  Since we are already sheltered  we stay in our sheltered bubbles,  afraid to see the world.   
We need food.  Feed our mouths.  Star in Open
Why does this hurt so much?  This pain in my chest  What is it?  Why is it happening   
It's you ripping out my heart out!  You ripping my heart out and stomping on it!  Stomping till it's no longer a heart!  And then throwing it away!!!   
Why don't you care?  The person you used be is gone, gone forever  What happened to you?  What happened to the person I loved?   
When was the last time you said "I love you" to me?  That's all you needed to say to make me feel better  Why were you so mean?  Do you still love me?   
 
! I WILL NEVER LOV in Spoken Word
Illusion of safety which makes you sleep at night  
Premenitons of lunacy which make me write  
 
Save my art & kill your thoughts  
Art's a tart of backward ticking clocks  
A tasteless joke of shameless gods (like)  
An angel nailed to a swastika w/  
Nails of ambition & illusion of pain as  
Disguise of existence in  
Reality of dreams where  
your sex is  
My violence was  
His salvation & her damnation in Open
Geschichte vom klecksenden Affen.   
Ein Affe (mit nicht eben viel Geschick)  (und keinem allzu künstlerischen Blick)  (und wenig Ahnung von der Politik)  hielt die Palette einer Republik.  Er staunte baß ob dieser ganzen Farben,  die für sich selbst wie für nichts And'res warben,  und malte einen Umriß grob per Hand,  und warf, mit Wortwitz und nicht viel Verstand,  diverse Kleckse an die weiße Wand:  jeder einzelne ein Buntesland.            Den Pinsel noch zwei-, dreimal quergezogen,     in Fixed
If I had a couple bucks, I'd buy a violet spool of thread, and I would sew my pockets with a silver pin. I would fill them up with copper coins which were once from cities with an air so gray that the buildings shook with rue based upon their streets so blue. With my copper coins in my pockets shut, I would buy some rungs for my ladder shrewd. I would take a hike up its acute pike to gain a color and refine a hue. When I hit the top, I would step right off, with two red feet and some ginger too. On the steel gray roof of the city's smog, I would reach to grasp the fuchsia moon; and when the fuchsia moon was in my hands, I would burn my body o in Open
ONCE           UPON                     A                         TIME                                  THERE                  &nb in Open
Can You Hear Me?  By Nelson Holmes,  Inspired by and based on The Wall, by Pink Floyd   
(David Gilmour)  Hey you…  Can you hear me?  Can you hear me?  Can you hear me, out beyond the wall?  Can you take the pride before the fall?  Can you hear me?  Can you hear me?  (Roger Waters)  Hey you!  Can you save me?  Can you save me?  Can you free from the wall?  Please!  I’m crying out to you!  Can you save me?  Can you scale it?  Can you break it?  Can you free me from the wall?  (Roger Waters, David Gilmour)  Can in Song
We are the future.  There is no need to look further.  Do not look at Apple, Maddox, Lola Daisy,  Or even J.Lo’s babies.   
No need to look further. We are America’s future   
The small child who needs the prayer,  With no daddy anywhere.  The one’s smoking the dope,  So close to returning Home.   
We are America’s future.   
The one who over achieves,  Who’s begging mom to leave.  Sitting in her room all alone.  Mom afraid of letting her baby go.. .     We are the future.  The young man with no home,  Raising in Open
These words a true, these numbers real,  But none as truthful as They feel.  The flood is made of human tears  So shut your mouths and face your fears.   
They have the right to say that you  Are like a tiger in a zoo.  You’ve never felt the scorching sun  Or heard the hunter’s deadly gun.   
You build your homes from golden beams  All strong enough to hold up dreams,  But somewhere else dreams don’t come true  The way your fondest wishes do.   
Perhaps you’ll never see Their hands  Reaching out for distant lands.  For underneath the rubbl in Open
What’s up with lookin’ down on others?  Aren’t we all sistas and brothers  Beneath all our layers  Aren’t we really the same  Don’t we breath the same air  Pump red blood through our viens  So what’s up with lookin’ down?  Why differentiate  
Why not simply celebrate  That we are really the same  The same underneath  And our differences are only skin deep  So what’s up with acting so superior  You’re not as clean as your exterior  He has made diversity  Only he can make purity  So make us clean,  Jesus in Open
Looking around its so absurd habits in life yeah what have you heard?   
Eating your life and spitting it out  yourself is your God you live for yourself.   
Looking back i was so lost now you are too do you know the cost?   
Forget your thoughts and your idols so gold  just take a good look your life you've sold   
now you're done your life is dead  so look in the mirror where is your head? in Song
They are frayed and weather worn  but we cannot die without them  so we pull them over our bodies  and drink them down to our bellies  to keep them close   
We have come undone in the most  poetic and epic of ways  and so we wait for our violins to play  dramatically, just for us   
Again and again  we clog and clean out our wombs  and we dig the flesh from our bones   
Bloated with our tendencies and disorders  we keep waiting for our violins to play  dramatically, just for us  to make our struggles known   
We cannot choke on our frustrations in Open
Leaf Leave Live in Ballad
in Open
Waiting With Scissors   
We hang our heads on the edge of a renaissance,  seek only to drown ourselves in oil that's used to grease    the rungs of caddle herders, the backs of  
 guns and their desert men who load each   bullet straight to the chest, the lube for   Clinton's hand job,  
 
the airport securities thumb for Bushes assholes.   
seek only narration from sound boards and message machines:    Hello Ms. Lotterhos, please except this one in lifetime   opportunity to join the Democratic Party,   i mean the Republican Party for terr in Open

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