With The Point Of My Feather;

[Maty]

With The Point Of My Feather; Against The Point Of Your Gun…

It’s the third world war,

In a box- with a manual;

Reading: “You against yourself…

With our help! ” in large print.

At the foot of my door:

‘Distribution is annual’

“…’Big Boys’ production-

For all your daily life needs…”

“…New war technology,

For you- the consumer,

Our 100% satisfaction guarantied…”

“…No need for Ideology,

no body count figures…”

“…No bloodshed,

to filthy our vacuum-cleaned streets...”

“No need to kill you, ”

I say to myself…

“…for you are much useful to them as a slave…”

“It’s a war…” I repeat,

“But this war can be won!

With the point of my feather; against the point of your gun…”

It’s the third world war,

In the morning ‘Time’ papers;

Bombarding with rage-

“Greed, is ruining the world! ”

“…The pursuit of money…

…The pursuit of happiness…

…The pursuit of knowledge…

…The pursuit of a goal…”

“The pursuit of power!

And the others, unearned.”

I add to their list

to silence their noise…

“By all means, means any.

Except for the earned!

But that’s what you’re after,

Ain’t you, ‘Big Boys’…? ”

“For they should only persuade you…”

I say to myself,

“…Let go of yourself; and you’re ready to serve! ”

“Yes, it’s a war…” I repeat,

“…But this war can be won!

With the point of my feather; against the point of your gun…”

It’s the third world war,

Live, on the radio…

A righteous attack:

“…Blood, It’s in you to give…”

“…Life, it’s in you to live! ”

I exclaim with a mark

as I’m loading a piece

for my counter attack.

Yet, the fool’s voice insisting:

“…only this much has given…

considering everyone has it,

that’s pretty darn low…”

“Use your wits boy! ” I say,

“Cammon’, everyone has them…

Must be pretty darn hard,

When you’re only a pawn…”

“Your conscience; their weapon.”

I say to myself,

“…To make you feel guilty, then cash you with nerve! ”

“Yes, it’s a war…” I reprint,

“But this war can be won!

With the point of my feather; against the point of your gun…”

It’s the Third World War,

On TV, with stereo;

Special features, surround

and special effects…

The saint is a whore,

just like the scenario.

And wisdom with god,

Preaching: “knowledge defects”.

The hero had died,

For the sake of his brothers;

Whose life is the thrill

of reality shows.

And beauty will hide,

As their children’s young minds,

captivated by tin;

Idols coated with gold…

“Your thought is their aim…”

I say to myself,

“…what ever you’ve got, to distort what you have! ”

“Yet I won’t retreat,

for this war can be won!

With the point of my feather; against the point of your gun…”

It’s a war in the streets,

Where the silent bombs whisper;

Mind poisoning fumes-

Of nerve numbing gas…

When unnoticed fleets,

Silence unwanted whistles;

Unavoidably torn,

from a life pounding chest.

It’s a war every day,

When, slaughtered by taxes,

Ghosts of dead soldiers

Hunt graveyards; still bleeding.

As their cries of despair,

buried by thick walls of darkness,

vaguely tremble a corridor

of some apartment rent building.

It’s a war in the schools,

when the children are taught,

that it’s right, and it’s just.

And that justice is nonsense…

And all they should learn-

Is to play by the rules.

Of a game for which rules

Is an unstable process…

So they learn how to cheat,

How to mistreat;

Evidence, facts, anything worthy.

How to lie to themselves,

Of course, with your help,

To believe they have earned

What they did not work for…

They’re taught to use words,

Before they’re taught about meaning.

And meaning, they’re taught,

Is whatever you wish…

So science means boredom,

and boredom is nature…

And virtue means evil-

So ignorance bliss…

Yet that’s what you’ve brought,

to the foot of my door.

In a box, with a manual-

Now I should fill;

Not a name, but a number,

As I open the door.

For that ignorant product of yours,

I pay the bill…

And “people”, I cry…

“…Just look what you’ve done!

Behind every word

Hides the point of a gun…

So check your beginnings,

To find where it began;

And please choose your end,

For how it will end…

Upon each man’s decision

The end will depend.”

“But then, I believe,

this war can be won!

When the point of a feather, surpass the point of a gun…”