Ah Yes Pointing Out That Hypocrisy Exists How Original

“Man wants but little here below

Nor wants that little long.”

How often hath that platitude

Been strangled into song?

By men who do not want, but have

Their little and their more.

In rhymes perforce, in meter bad,

They serve it to the poor.

“Contentment in a humble home,”

They preach to homeless men,

“Is best.” Then purchase palaces,

As many as they can.

“Thy simple bread and wine is more,”

To those who starving wait,

“Delightsome than delicacies!”

As they refill their plate.

“Humility! Forgiveness!”

To the millions they have wronged.

And would not even notice if

The last of us were gone.

If man doth want so little

Then little it should be

For these mighty and strong to give

Our needs to you and me.

Man wants but little here below.

My wants are only one:

Take every scrap of doggerel.

Force them to eat each one.

Curse on a Deserving Land

Dark clouds gather at the edge of the sky.
We have one last reckoning, you and I.
And you’ve never met me, you don’t know my name,
But you are my murderer just the same.
In the dust was my living. Unto dust I return.
And when have you shown the slightest concern?

You’ve declared everything your property
But there’s a god for the slave and he’s setting us free.
You’re comfortably accustomed to giving commands,
But winter don’t listen, and won’t stay his hand.
You’ve built out of money an eminent seat.
Now money’s the only thing you’ll have to eat.

Dance with me, honey, one last time
We’re already dead. So everything’s fine.
Dance in the dust till it all blows away.
A mighty wind’s coming, or so they say.

You name yourself safe from the world that you made
But there’s a god in the mountain and I think you’re afraid.
He’s thinking on vengeance and his mind’s going dark
Over field, over fen, over national park.
There’s fires’ll be burning, and no way to fight.
You sold the fire department yesterday night.

Dance with me, honey, one last time
We’re already dead. So everything’s fine.
Dance in the dust till it all blows away.
A mighty wind’s coming, one of these days.

You’ve said your piece a hundred times and one
But there’s a god overhead, of tempest and tongue.
He’s heard, who has not? how the truth you despise.
From such he shall take away even the lies.
A breeze stirs thinly, and the wind turns round
So that you may hear the terrible sound:
The voices of the living. Voices of the dead.
The hurricane howling for your guilty head.
You’ve lied your way out of troubles before
But the wind’s coming someday, of that I am sure.
Dark clouds shall sweep you out of the sky.
There’ll be nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide.
You’ll cry to the gods and they will speak not your name,
They’ll say “as you did to others, to us just the same.”
And what happens after, I shall not care.
My friend, that’s your problem. That’s none of my affair.

So dance with me honey, one last time.
We’re already dead. So everything’s fine.
Dance in the dust, just for today.
A mighty wind’s coming, to blow us away.